


Lethe

by RoamingSignals



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Amnesia, Death, Happy Ending, Hell, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, References to Depression, Soul Selling, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:34:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25887427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoamingSignals/pseuds/RoamingSignals
Summary: There is life and death, and then somewhere in between there is Doyoung, who is neither. And still beyond that there is Jaehyun, who seems to be both, even as he washes in on Death’s Door — a human with a soul, however damaged.
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung
Comments: 64
Kudos: 230





	Lethe

**Author's Note:**

> SUP this is cross posted from an incomplete [twt thread](https://twitter.com/fuIImarks/status/1158264526468472832?s=20) a long time ago. i finished it up and edited it a little but it is unbeta'd because it's 26k and that's too much.
> 
> WARNING: if you are very sensitive to...idk. honestly like a heavy downward spiral into depression and a little insanity, then please be careful with the remembering! the scene after jaehyun drinks from ten's cup deals a lot with how he got here and it's not very pretty! i would say it's on the mild side because i myself am delicate. but please be careful with yourselves  
> i was not sure how to tag accurately for what i just consider a heavy scene. i did my best!

Doyoung spends his days on the river, manning the boat, carrying bodies from here to there, but it's not often that he pulls a body from the water.

Perhaps that’s why it’s so shocking, when hands bang over the shell of his ship and he’s left fishing men.

One man, in particular, and Doyoung isn’t sure whether he’s dead or alive but he’s beautiful. Doyoung has only been so struck by beauty once, a bitter memory, and he drops the body on the floor of his boat in a heap. He watches that chest rise and fall and wonders.

 _Dead or alive_. It’s an odd question for the Underworld.

“Most people materialize inside the boat,” Doyoung says, dry.

“I’ll do better next time,” is the short reply. Breathless.

Despite himself, Doyoung smiles.

The man is not close to drowning. He’s shocked, shaking, soaked through. The material of his shirt sticks to his chest, but his lungs are full of air instead of water, and Doyoung isn’t worried about his health. He worries about other things. “You’re alive.”

“I should hope so,” says the stranger, flopping on his back on the floor of Doyoung’s boat. “Damn, my head hurts.” His hair is pale, his face is pale, but his heart is beating, and he feels his own chest as though to take stock. He doesn’t have to — Doyoung can sense a soul and flesh and blood.

There are ghosts behind them, sitting listlessly on their benches, a beating heart far beyond them. A distant memory. This man doesn’t realize the treasure he holds.

Odd.

Doyoung is staring.

“Who are you?” the man asks.

A long moment, heavy hesitation. He lowers his cowl and sees the man in clearer light under an endless night sky. “The Boatkeeper, for today.”

“Is that all you are?” the stranger asks, wringing the water from his shirt. And then — “Do I call you Boatkeeper?”

“Preferably.” Another moment, and an allowance. “Doyoung.”

The man smiles. Sweet. Doyoung is struck by beauty all over again, a new and unwelcome discovery, even if he doesn’t have a heart to beat.

“I’m Jaehyun.”

🕯🕯🕯

“Holy shit,” exclaims Yuta, when Doyoung pulls his boat up the dock. “He’s alive.”

“Wouldn’t it be unholy?” Doyoung is too tired to scold his friend to noise and just tired enough to play along. He stands steady on wavering feet as the boat hits wood and Yuta comes forward to grab the mooring line. “We’re no angels.”

“There are no angels around to smite me.” Yuta claps Doyoung on the shoulder and works to tie the boat to its post. “Or do whatever they’re into these days.”

Jaehyun sits, awkwardly, on the bench. Alone. Unsure.

Doyoung does not need to look over his shoulder to know what image he will see; a man, confused, waiting. He’s seen it a thousand and one times before. “Will you stay there all night?” Doyoung asks, clipped.

“I’m alive.” Jaehyun says it oddly. His hands wring in his lap. “Am I allowed to be here?”

Doyoung had not been able to take Jaehyun to shore immediately. His first order of business is transporting souls, the ones who wander the shores until they’re taken to their final destination. Jaehyun is mortal and has seen that place with wide eyes. It’s not surprising he is quiet. He’s seen what he might become, and has seen that it is something altogether different.

A soul without tether, helpless, wandering through a gate towards judgement — or whatever lies on the other side. Doyoung is neither judge nor jury. He’s not privy to what happens once he’s led the spirits through those doors.

“Do they understand what’s happening to them?” Jaehyun had asked, once Doyoung returned to the boat.

“Do they have to?” Doyoung asked in response, and perhaps it was not the right answer.

Silly humans. They always want to understand and never accept that they can’t.

So Jaehyun sits in his boat, lonely, small, and asks even more silly questions, like _am I allowed to be here?_

“No,” Doyoung answers, one foot on the dock and the other in the boat. He holds out his hand. “But we can’t exactly throw you back in the water.”

Jaehyun’s hand is so warm. It’s been awhile since Doyoung has held a hand so warm. Jaehyun doesn’t mention how cold Doyoung is.

“Do you even know where ‘here’ is?” Yuta asks. His hands reach forward, longing to touch warm blood and flesh.

A moment, and Jaehyun’s eyes flicker back and forth, but there’s only the river and the boat and the mist, and everything else is hidden. “Hell?”

Yuta grins, too many teeth. “How cute.” His hands reach forward, longing to touch warm blood and flesh.

“Don’t tease him.” Doyoung takes off his cloak and drops it over the edge into the boat to wait for him until morning. No one will touch what is his. He does not want to carry it and it will turn up when he needs it. He rolls up his sleeves. “He’s confused.”

“I’m not sure he’s aware enough to be confused.” Yuta snaps in front of Jaehyun’s eyes for his attention and smiles when Jaehyun huffs, wicked. “A human in Hell, with a body, and a heart.” Yuta whistled, too sharp.

Doyoung grimaces. “Don’t call it Hell.”

“The Underworld sounds pretentious.”

Jaehyun blinks. He is standing awkwardly at the dock, surrounded by murky water and beings he could never begin to understand, and he asks, “what do you call it?”

Yuta links their arms together, brings his face too close for new acquantainces, and smiles with his shark teeth and reptilian eyes. “Home.”

🕯🕯🕯

Doyoung does not take Jaehyun home.

Yuta is a good friend and doesn’t mention it when they take a wrong turn or two — or at least far too distracted by the new toy to notice — and Jaehyun is too trusting of them to ask questions. Or rather, Jaehyun probably has so many questions that he can’t find one to ask.

“It’s a bit early for a good night’s sleep,” Yuta says cheerfully, as if they needed sleep at all. Any ticking of the clocks has long ceased here.

“Please take me on a Hell Tour,” Jaehyun replies. He still hangs on Yuta’s arm, hasn’t let go since the pier. He is fascinated by the dark obsidian of Yuta’s nails, sharpened into talons, and Yuta is having to much fun to admit that he’s painted them.

Doyoung walks ahead of them and doesn’t look back. “Don’t call it Hell.” An endless echo, and a useless one.

Jaehyun’s eyes sparkle. Doyoung knows they’re sparkling; he can hear it in his response — “Would you like me to call it home?”

It’s a tentative attempt at flirting. Doyoung doesn’t know how to reply so he doesn’t, looking over his shoulder with a grimace. Whatever shows on his face sends Yuta snickering into Jaehyun’s shoulder, and Jaehyun flushes as pink as his hair.

Doyoung does not hate it. He does not have an opinion. He is focused on getting Jaehyun back to the land of the living, where he belongs, and doesn’t have time to flirt back.

So Doyoung doesn’t take Jaehyun home; he takes Jaehyun to Johnny.

“I love this place,” Yuta says, staring at the neon lights of the shop. It does not look very much like a human definition of Hell. It looks like any other beachside tourist trap selling windchimes and postcards. “It’s so useless. Charming.”

“If Johnny hears you saying that, he’ll send you through the gates himself.” Doyoung grins. The shop is a bit useless.

Jaehyun looks through the window with an odd, incredulous smile on his face. “Are those—” he squints — “novelty underwear?”

“Yes,” Doyoung says. He sighs, a little fond. “Overpriced, just like up top.”

“I like the snowglobes,” Yuta adds idly. He’s already pushing the glass door open. The bell rings, tinny.

It’s a tourist shop in the middle of the Underworld, because every passing demon wants to buy a punny throw pillow and a hunk of glass they’re never going to use. Somehow it exists here in a space that it should not. Doyoung supposes Jaehyun might feel a kinship with this place, however tacky.

Johnny doesn’t take criticism. Doyoung tried once and had been barraged by novelty magnets. But they’re friends — Johnny is powerful, and could have done a lot worse.

“This is ridiculous,” Jaehyun notes, his fingers moving gently through a sea of wind chimes. Doyoung can’t argue with him. There are stuffed animals in the corner, an old book piled haphazardly against the wall. “Is there no Hell memorabilia?”

Yuta raises his eyebrows. “It’s not like there’s a need for it.” Laughs. “Why would you need a souvenir? People who come here don’t go back.”

Doyoung frowns. “Don’t say that to him.”

And Yuta pulls away from Jaehyun to whisper in Doyoung’s ear — “Does it look like he wants to leave?”

Doyoung peers at Jaehyun, who is more awed by the familiarity than the wicked points of Yuta’s teeth or the fog shifting at their feet, thick and syrupy. Jaehyun is unbothered by the idea of staying here forever, but he doesn’t know what that means. Doyoung cannot forget Jaehyun’s face when he delivered the spirits to the gates. It’s only a matter of time before panic sets it. Doyoung would like to return him before that happens.

But that is complicated, and not what Yuta asked. “I’m not sure he remembers what he left,” Doyoung tells him.

Yuta shrugs. “Better for us, in the long run, if we don’t have to deal with the weeping.” He shudders, nails tapping against the glass of a snowglobe. A blonde girl and a Christmas tree are trapped inside forever. “Humans and their weeping...talk about useless.”

Jaehyun looks far from weeping. He’s pale and sickly, but far more interested in the human-sized teddy bear sitting in the corner than anything else.

“Johnny,” Doyoung calls, because he’d rather end this conversation quickly. “I’ve brought you something interesting.”

No response, other than the echo of a wind chime.

“A human,” Yuta adds, and the air sharpens.

“A human?”

Jaehyun jumps, blinking in confusion, and there’s a body beside him. A giant, lumbering body wearing an _I ♥ Chicago_ t-shirt. His eyes are completely black and his face is surreally handsome, like something someone has hung in a museum. The tips of ram’s horns drag across the ceiling, raining plaster.

Johnny smiles too wide — too many teeth for a human mouth, just enough for something bigger. “How cute.”

Yuta laughs, craning his neck to look in Johnny’s face. “That’s what I said!”

“Um.” Jaehyun’s eyes are shaking. “Nice to meet you?”

“Don’t loom too much, Johnny,” Doyoung says tiredly. “It’s rude.”

“Oh.” The air is sucked out of the room, and in a blink Johnny is more man than monster, save the dark void of his eyes. It’s the one thing he hates glamouring away. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Jaehyun says, and he’s still confused. So confused that he doesn’t say anything when Johnny starts tugging on his arms, his clothes, his hair. There is a listlessness to the way Jaehyun allows himself be manhandled.

“He’s all wet,” Johnny whines, tugging at the clinging white of Jaehyun’s shirt.

“I pulled him from the river,” Doyoung explains.

“Can we wear matching t-shirts?” Jaehyun asks childishly, and in a snap it’s done. The shirt is too small and extremely annoying, but Jaehyun looks happy with it. Disgusting.

Doyoung scowls. “I hate this.”

Johnny pats Jaehyun’s head. It is already possessive, and Doyoung’s scowl deepens. “You hate fun.”

“Humans aren’t fun,” Doyoung grouses. “Tourism isn’t fun.”

“Hey.” Jaehyun looks at Doyoung with wide eyes. “I’m fun.” Small.

Doyoung looks like he’s swallowed a lemon. “Is no one going to discuss the fact that Jaehyun should not, under any circumstances, be here?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Johnny rolls his eyes. He pulls away from Jaehyun, who takes a deep breath as though he couldn’t before. It might be true — the pressure of something like Johnny can be far too heavy. “Come upstairs.”

Johnny’s study is less eclectic than his store, and far less useless. There are thousands of books here, relics from older times, and the look of it makes Doyoung remember that their friend isn’t just an idiot. Johnny looks at home here, amongst all the knowledge, even with his stupid shirt.

“Johnny is one of the few demons that travels back and forth to the land of living,” Yuta explains, collapsing into one of the oversized chairs around Johnny’s desk. “He’s the closest you’ll get to an expert on humans.”

Doyoung picks up a rubber chicken from the chaise and sets it aside so he can take a seat. “He’s also a hoarder.”

“You love me.” Johnny flips through his book and looks at Jaehyun through narrowed eyes. “What’s your name?”

A quick response, with a straight spine. “Jaehyun.” He is standing in the center of the room at attention, the light of the chandelier casting the pallor of his face in stark relief.

Johnny cares for answers more than comfort. “How did you get here?”

“I don’t remember.”

“What do you remember?”

Jaehyun pauses. “Very little. My name — that’s the biggest thing — and that I shouldn’t be afraid.”

It is an odd thing to remember.

Doyoung scoffs. Every human is afraid of this place. In most ways, this is their greatest nightmare: the end of life, where their materialism doesn’t matter and their morality makes their bed. Terrifying.

Jaehyun seems at peace. More peaceful that Doyoung has ever seen a human be, on his boat. Amongst the living. Ever. This is the peace that comes with brutal acceptance and exhaustion.

Yuta looks at Doyoung, and then at Jaehyun, and then at Johnny. “Is it possible this is an Orpheus situation?”

“Orpheus?” Jaehyun clearly recognizes the name. Doyoung wonders what kind of stories they tell these days. He wonders if they’re true.

Johnny ignores him and rubs his chin. “That entrance was removed centuries ago.”

“Has my memory been wiped?” Jaehyun asks quietly. “Like the river...you know. That one river.”

“The Lethe?” Doyoung rolls his eyes, leaning forward in his chair and peering at the book on Johnny’s desk. The letters are a language Doyoung once knew and has long forgotten. “The Lethe isn’t real.”

Jaehyun makes a face, flat and unimpressed. “But Orpheus is?”

“Barely.”

Johnny draws his finger down the page and a note flows out underneath his fingertips in red script — _wiped, unclean_. “Are you sure he has a soul?” he asks Doyoung. “Sometimes empty humans confuse themselves and follow the river to death.” It has happened before; a souless creature drawn inevitably to souless creatures.

“Of course he has a soul,” Doyoung snaps. “Can’t you feel it?” Jaehyun is too bright to be empty. Even in the dim lighting of Johnny’s study, even with the purple smears under his eyes, he shines.

“It’s possible it’s some kind of trick,” Johnny reminds him. Softens. “You’re the expert on souls, Doie.”

“He has his.” Petulant. “Do you want proof?” Doyoung slams his palm into the flat of Jaehyun’s chest and takes.

It’s a mistake, but Doyoung makes many of those. He’s too old to care.

The look on Jaehyun’s face as his soul is removed from his body...Doyoung doesn’t think he will ever forget it. The way the small spark in his eyes disappears. The way his skin pales further. The way any brightness in this man is pulled from him and sits spinning in Doyoung’s palm. The sound of it, a low cry and a thud as Jaehyun looses the strength to stand.

Jaehyun clutches onto the edge of the desk, knees weak. His face is contorted, the heel of his palm digging into his temple. “Excuse me,” he says, breathless. “My head just…”

Doyoung stands in the middle of Johnny’s study with a star in his hand.

Yuta stares at Jaehyun.

Johnny stares at Doyoung.

Doyoung stares at the soul. He feels far colder than before. “Is this enough proof for you?”

“I think so,” Johnny replies, mild even in the face of dramatics. He folds his hands over the pages of his book and inspects Jaehyun with a clinical eye. “You can return it to him. He looks a little worse for wear.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Doyoung says defensively. His hand shakes. He pours the star back where it belongs until his hands are clean, but he doesn’t think it will stop the aching of Jaehyun’s head.

It is quiet for only a moment. “No one said you didn’t,” Yuta reminds him.

Perhaps Doyoung is the only one who doubts it. He feels helpless when he looks at Jaehyun, even though Jaehyun isn’t really asking for help.

The human looks up at Doyoung and his eyes are like glass. “Sorry,” he says. “I feel like I’m….”

“Don’t think about it too much,” Yuta soothes, one hand awkwardly patting Jaehyun’s back. “Ripping a soul out doesn’t sit well with anyone.” He looks at Doyoung. “Although usually it’s a smoother process.”

“I did it smooth!” Doyoung snaps.

“I’m not saying you didn’t!”

“I think I’d like to sit down,” Jaehyun says, in a small voice, and Doyoung stands up from his seat and puts his hands on Jaehyun’s elbows and leads him to the chair.

Johnny continues to read his book. “He’ll have a hard time getting home, like this.”

“I don’t think I need to go home,” Jaehyun mumbles into his hands. “I don’t know if I want to go.”

Doyoung doesn’t have a heart to break. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Short. “This is no place for a human.”

Jaehyun’s hand grips Doyoung’s wrist so tightly, more strength in his fingers than Doyoung should reasonably expect, but he isn’t surprised at this human’s will. “Didn’t you say you couldn’t throw me into the river? That you wouldn’t?”

“There are other methods of returning, I’m sure.” Doyoung stares at the white-knuckle grip and then at this strange creature — so listless, so tired, so desperate to stay. He doesn’t know what he’s asking for.

“Let me stay,” Jaehyun says like a challenge, like there is weight in his desire.

Doyoung’s stomach growls. He snatches his wrist out of Jaehyun’s grasp and shoves it in his pocket. The magic under his skin spins circles and Doyoung is hungry.

“Doyoung can’t send you home,” Johnny tells Jaehyun. His eyes are cool on Doyoung’s face, and Doyoung counts the screws in the floorboards. “He doesn’t have the power.”

A human’s will is stronger than most things, when standing firm.

“He doesn’t want to stay.” Doyoung is pleading with Johnny through gritted teeth. Fists clenched. Boiling. “He just doesn’t remember what he’s lost.” More than anything, Doyoung is certain that Jaehyun can’t stay. Humans do not belong here. “There are rules,” he tries, a weak argument.

“Demons shouldn’t follow rules,” Jaehyun shoots back.

 _Demons._ It is as accurate a word as any, although nothing can truly describe the difference between them. Doyoung frowns at him, jaw firm. “Demons deal in contracts.”

Jaehyun is polite and stubborn, batting eyelashes. “And you’ve never broken one?”

Yuta laughs. He does that an awful lot, these days.

Doyoung slams his hands on Johnny’s desk, and the older demon looks at him with those black eyes, unimpressed. He’s seen a lot of fire in his time — Doyoung can’t compare but oh, how he tries. “Restore his memories.”

Johnny sighs, smiling, soft. “I can’t.”

The smile tells Doyoung this is a game, and immediately he knows he cannot win. But Doyoung is also stubborn, and far less polite. “Why not?”

Johnny doesn’t answer and it’s infuriating. He just tilts his head innocently, like he doesn’t have the most power among them, even combined. “Do you really think his memories would make him leave?”

Doyoung swallows. “Yes.” He is certain of it.

“I don’t care what you think.” Jaehyun’s voice is a mountain, not to be moved. “I can make my own decision.”

“Why are you so passionate about this?” Doyoung demands. “Not an hour ago you thought I might return you to the fishes.” _Am I allowed to be here?_ Where did that shadow of a man go.

Jaehyun opens his mouth but has no answer.

“You should hate us,” Doyoung tells him, after a moment, after the heart he doesn’t have settles. The look in Jaehyun’s eyes is immeasurable, and humans are always stronger than they think. “We do nothing but hurt you.”

Another moment of silence, a pursed mouth, and a single steady heartbeat. “You pulled me from the river,” Jaehyun reminds him softly. “I’ll forgive you your imaginary transgressions if you give me a bed and some time.”

This man.

Truly, this is a game Doyoung cannot win.

“We can make plans in the morning,” Yuta says, still sitting in his chair and more amused than he has any right to be. Doyoung hates being amusing. “For now, I think our new toy would like a nap.”

🕯🕯🕯

“I’ll admit I’m a bit confused.”

They’re sitting on the floor of Doyoung’s home, and Jaehyun sleeps on the couch in the living room. There is no bed here; Doyoung’s never needed one. Yuta is overstaying his welcome, but Doyoung has felt too many things today and isn’t in the mood to kick him out. A bottle of wine sits between them and Doyoung pours himself a second glass with a sigh. “And why is that?”

“You reassured him that he could stay here and then demanded that he leave.” Yuta’s fingers tap idly on the edge of his cup, languid, but his mind is always wound tight and poised to snap. “Mixed signals, hmm? Figures you’d be the type.” He takes a jaunty sip of his drink.

“Of course he can stay if he wants to.” Doyoung says it but does not feel it. He’s an otherworldly being and he’s growing a headache. Unfair. “But he doesn’t have enough information to decide.”

“Stupid logic.”

Doyoung smiles, sad, and admits something to himself. “Johnny has a way to send him back. That changes things.”

Yuta peers at his friend over his glass. “Did Johnny tell you that?”

“No, but I know him too well.” Grim. “Jaehyun is alive. He was right to ask if he could be here. The answer is no, he can’t. He shouldn’t.”

“But he is.” Yuta falls back onto the floor, long red hair splaying across Doyoung’s carpet. “So?”

Doyoung looks out the window and watches the fog pass. This place is a dark and murky inbetween. There’s no sun. There’s no forward movement. There’s only the residents, the travelers, and the next step. “So he should go home.”

Johnny is more powerful than any of them. Johnny knows more about the process of moving between life and death and whatever this liminal space is than anyone. Johnny knows how to send Jaehyun home.

But Johnny won’t do it, because Johnny likes a good game and Jaehyun is a mule.

“It’s a gift, right?” Johnny had said, on their way out the door. “Take it.”

Doyoung doesn’t take things that aren’t his. He only takes what’s given to him, cleanly.

“You’re going crazy being stuck down here.” Yuta stands up and stretches like a cat, all harsh edges. “When will you get summoned again? You’re looking peakish.”

The wine does not fill his stomach. He takes a heavy drink. “Not any time soon.” Doyoung can see the water flowing past from his house, if he squints past the neon lights of the city. “I’m a boatman, now.”

“Can’t believe they’re giving you busy work.” Yuta scoffs. “You, Mr. Workaholic, Overachiever, transporting souls to the gates.”

Doyoung runs a hand down his face. “Hell, what would Ten say?”

“He’d laugh in your face.”

Ten surely would. Doyoung grimaces and spins red in his glass. “Why are all my friend’s the worst?”

“Birds of a feather.” Yuta picks up the bottle from the floor and looks towards the other room. They can both feel a beating heart, the warmth of a body sleeping not ten feet away. “Maybe you could use something sweet.”

Doyoung scowls. “I’m not stealing his soul.”

“Don’t look at me like that. What would you steal it for? You’re no soul eater. That shit’s fucked.” Yuta quirks an eyebrow. “You could eat something else.” Yuta knows Doyoung too well, so he’s not surprised when Doyoung throws a pillow at him. He catches it with a grin. “When was the last time you got laid?”

“It’s none of your business!” But Doyoung is red in the face. “And it hasn’t been that long! I’m not eating anything.” There’s a soft noise from the couch, and Doyoung immediately looks like he’s swallowed a lemon. “I’m not eating anything,” he hisses, a brutal whisper.

Yuta slams his fists on the table. “It’s what the people want!” A pause. “I’m people.”

“You’re barely a lifeform.”

“I’m cancelling our pizza delivery,” Yuta says, pulling out his phone. “I won’t stand for this. Ass eating or bust.”

“Bust.” But Doyoung is still looking at the warm body on his sofa, and he’s not hiding it. It’s not worth hiding it, if Yuta is teasing him regardless.

He is very hungry.

Something rumbles in the distance — the gates are closing for the night. It sounds like thunder, an incoming storm. The souls left in line will wander until morning, or the dismal equivalent. Some will stand still for hours, the ones that have forgotten what being human is like.

It is awfully sad, isn’t it? Humans.

“I don’t know if I want to be summoned again,” Doyoung whispers to the window.

Yuta puts his phone down, watching Doyoung through slitted eyes. Time isn’t real, but it passes. Perhaps Doyoung should begin to keep track by heartbeats, now that he has an example. “What happened to you up there, bunny?”

“Don’t call me that.” Weak.

A hand in his hair. “What happened to you?”

Doyoung leans into the comfort of it. “I made a mistake.” Doyoung has never made that kind of mistake before. “Now I’m a boatkeeper.” Mighty, fallen.

“Um.”

Doyoung pulls away from Yuta and finds Jaehyun lingering in the doorway, a ghost, or a memory. Pale. His hair is tousled, cute, and his nose is red. He sniffles and holds himself around the middle. The white of his t-shirt looks unnatural in the dim light. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” It sounds like scolding. Doyoung pushes away Yuta’s comforting hands. “Do you need something?” He isn’t used to what humans need, although he’s spent time learning.

“Is there a blanket?” Jaehyun asks, quiet.

“Oh.” Doyoung doesn’t reply, just stands up and walks towards the closet in the hallway. Blankets. Stupid. Of course he wants a blanket. It’s freezing here, despite the hellfire.

When he returns with the biggest, fluffiest blanket he can find, Yuta has his hands on Jaehyun’s chest and his mouth on Jaehyun’s neck.

The human’s eyes are closed. Nose still red. He looks delicate. Like a dream.

Doyoung is not proud — he stares for too long. He watches Jaehyun shiver and his fingers clench. “Yuta,” Doyoung bites out.

When his friend looks at him those eyes are stark yellow, fangs biting into the flesh of his lips. “What?” Yuta simpers, not moving his mouth from the curve of Jaehyun’s jaw. “He said I could.”

Doyoung throws the blanket at him like a bucket of cold water. “I thought we agreed on no eating.”

“That’s what you agreed on.” Yuta sniffs, blinking the hunger out of his eyes. The yellow dims. “He doesn’t seem to mind a little biting.”

Jaehyun laughs sleepily and it’s criminal. It’s absolutely disgusting, that he looks so innocent and had Yuta’s teeth pressed into his pulse point. “I’ve never met a vampire before...” Pauses. There is a dark smear in the white of his collar. “That I know of.”

“I’m not a vampire.” Yuta doesn’t seem offended. His mouth is red and he wipes it on the back of his hand. “I’m something else.”

Blood trickles down Jaehyun’s neck and Yuta swipes it away with a fond wave of his hand. Jaehyun is unperturbed. “I thought it would be interesting.” Yuta was right about that much.

This is why Jaehyun shouldn’t be here. Doyoung looks at him incredulously. “You have no sense of self-preservation.” He doesn’t know why he’s surprised.

And here, Jaehyun’s eyes hollow out into something Doyoung recognizes too well. The perfect victim, if Doyoung were working his old job, if Doyoung were in the business of bartering for souls. “What do I have to preserve?”

The rumbling, like thunder, and Jaehyun looks out the window to see what’s next.

“Humans!” Yuta pets Jaehyun’s head like a master might dote on his dog. “I can see why Johnny likes you. So weird.”

“Yuta, I think you should leave,” Doyoung tells him. There is something uncomfortable in his stomach. “Jaehyun needs to sleep.” Isn’t that something humans need? That’s what Doyoung remembers; being deprived of rest results in ruin.

Jaehyun smiles. “I’m awake now.” There’s a mark on his neck, healing fast. His eyes flutter closed, dimples deepening. Sleep drunk, maybe, or reeling from Yuta having his fun.

“I should go,” Yuta agrees, looking between them, and his eyes linger on Doyoung for a moment. “One day, maybe you’ll tell me what broke you.”

“I’m certain I will,” Doyoung sneers. “You’re annoying, and we have eternity.”

Jaehyun laughs.

“Thanks for the blanket,” he says once Yuta is out the door. He picks it up off the floor and Doyoung watches him pet the material absently. “Is it from Johnny?”

“One of the nymphs wove it, actually,” Doyoung answers. “I can’t remember which one. She was pretty.” Stilted. Unsure. “Not, like…” _You._ “I don’t remember her.”

Jaehyun hums. A sweet smile, like he can hear Doyoung’s thoughts racing. The purple under his eyes is a softening bruise. “Did I hear something about pizza?”

🕯🕯🕯

Jaehyun sleeps well and Doyoung sleeps not at all.

It’s not an unusual arrangement; Doyoung doesn’t need rest like humans do. Creatures like him need to eat — consume — and Doyoung needs to keep moving. He’s been told that’s a personal trait.

Yuta takes cat naps, curled up in the arms of anyone who will accept him, and their friend Taeyong will sleep for hours or even days out of boredom. Supposedly he finds it comfortable. They can sleep. Doyoung just hates being idle.

The hours until Jaehyun wakes up are torture.

The pizza is consumed at a rapid pace and they chatter until Jaehyun yawns so wide his smile threatens to split. There’s a breezy goodnight and then Doyoung spends an hour or so cleaning, until lemon overruns grease. It does nothing to overrun Doyoung’s thoughts, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever sleep again. Jaehyun’s goodnight plays back a million times in a blink. Unfortunate.

He throws the plates in the sink and throws the cardboard box into the murky void in the cabinet. He lets the water run and watches the soap billow up while he collapses in his kitchen chair. He runs his hands over his face.

He thinks.

God, Doyoung is good at many things, but there is nothing he is so good at as overthinking.

It’s been such a long day.

There’s nothing chaining him to his house. Normally at this time of night he’s walking the shore, or rifling through the library, or playing chess with the entity that lives in the pothole on North Avenue, but none of those things sound interesting at the moment. He always loses chess anyway.

It takes him many hours, many blinks, millions of goodnights, to realize he doesn’t want to leave Jaehyun alone.

“Ridiculous,” he tells the tepid water. “You don’t even have a heart.”

Doyoung will not get attached to some human being with hollow eyes and a pretty smile. Human beings are not for creatures like Doyoung — they burn too brightly, like sparklers instead of candles, down to the wick, and are ash before they’ve even had a chance to live.

Some are ash while they’re still living, ruined early and taken apart by creatures like Doyoung, who know which matches to burn.

Jaehyun’s cheeks are flushed, warmed by the blanket and the food, and Doyoung breathes.

He breathes, chokes. He does not want to leave Jaehyun alone and so he must. He tucks the blanket under Jaehyun’s chin and toes on his shoes and leaves, if only to convince himself he still can. He’s done it a thousand times, but only once when it really mattered. Every time is harder and harder.

He does not make it very far.

“Doyoung.” The woman sitting on the pavement waves him hello. She blows smoke rings out of her mouth all day, lazy circles, despite the lack of cigarettes. “It’s been a long time.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She’s never given Doyoung a name. He isn’t sure she has one. She’s old enough she might have forgotten. “I travel a lot.” Less these days.

“Up and down the river, hmm?” She smiles, teeth of pearl, razor sharp. They are a stark contrast to the gray of her skin. “Not as exciting as what you’re used to.”

“A break can be nice.”

Oh, how she laughs. “You are like a shark, boy.” Always moving. “If you stop, you die.”

“Lucky for me,” Doyoung replies, hands in his pockets. “I can never die.”

She hums. “So I guess you can never stop.”

Doyoung is a candle that doesn’t burn and will never stop burning.

He sighs. Thinks. Overthinks. “Ma’am, do you know why a human might be here?” She is so achingly ancient, a mountain, and more powerful than Johnny, when she solidifies enough to put her foot down and feel the earth move.

“There are plenty of reasons, but none are very common.” Mouth a perfect _O_ , black, blowing smoke in Doyoung’s face. She smells like rain in the fall. “Orpheus.”

“He isn’t Orpheus.”

“Well, you know that at least.” She looks up at Doyoung looming over her, her expression bored. Doyoung supposes that’s what happens when you’ve seen a million lifetimes. “Perhaps you should be asking him why he’s here. That’s always the best option.”

Doyoung scowls. “He doesn’t remember.”

“Make him remember.”

“Johnny says he can’t.”

“Ah.” She cracks her bones, stretching her legs out on the pavement. Her feet are bare and fuzzy around the edges. “Perhaps he gave them away.” She shrugs. “It happens.”

Doyoung stares at her. He supposes Jaehyun’s memories don’t matter to her, but they matter to him, because if Jaehyun had them he would want to return to the things he knows. There are things that Jaehyun wants to preserve at all costs, if only he could remember them.

He stifles his flame. She will never bear it. “What does that have to do with why he’s here?”

She shrugs again. “Why are you here? Why am I here?” She sings and the glass of the windows shake. “It’s where we’re meant to be.”

Doyoung scoffs. “He’s not meant to be here.”

“Oh?” Her hair starts to fade into the air. She takes long fingers and braids it back together. Sometimes she forgets how to be a person. “Who told you that?”

When Doyoung returns to his home, Jaehyun is awake. The blanket is neatly folded on the couch beside him and his feet are tucked underneath himself. He’s staring at the painting on the wall. It’s modern art. Doyoung’s never been fond of it.

The door shuts behind Doyoung and Jaehyun looks at him analytically for a moment, and then his face is a sunrise. “Good morning,” he says, as those he has any sense of time here. Perhaps he is also counting heartbeats. “Did you enjoy your walk?”

“Do I smell like smoke?” Doyoung wonders aloud.

“You smell like laundry and something sweet,” Jaehyun answers simply, but he’s tucking his knees under his chin and grinning at Doyoung. “I don’t hate it.”

If Doyoung had a heart. “You smell like brine.”

“You did pull me from the river.” The dark circles under Jaehyun’s eyes are lighter now, and his hair is rumpled, and the shirt he’s wearing is wrinkled beyond anything. “Do demons have showers?”

Doyoung laughs. “The hellfire burns away all the grime.” Cheeky, despite himself. “We keep one for the occasional human houseguest. It’s only polite.” He swallows his friendliness down, thick. “Third door on the right.”

Jaehyun stands up and stretches, taught stomach, heart in knots. “Which is the door to your dungeon?”

“It’s in the shed.” Doyoung looks at the bare skin and finds it pretty. “The wails are too loud to keep it in the main house.”

“I love a man with foresight.” Jaehyun sighs into being awake and saunters down the hallway.

“Towels are in the cabinet under the sink,” Doyoung calls absently, watching his guest walk away. “Soap is on the shelf. The hot and cold knobs are switched.”

There’s a lazy thumbs up and then Jaehyun disappears and Doyoung has space to overthink again.

Why would someone like Jaehyun give his memories away? The thought of it sinks horribly in Doyoung’s stomach. What does Jaehyun want to forget so badly he’d give up everything?

“Jaehyun,” Doyoung asks, when the man walks out of the bathroom in a towel, smelling like Doyoung, “why do you want to be here?”

There are stars and then there is Jaehyun. “Because I feel like I should be.”

In the end — or the beginning, or the middle, or wherever they are — that is enough.

🕯🕯🕯

“Can I come with you?”

It’s an odd request — or rather, it isn’t, but it’s not one that Doyoung is expecting.

His cloak hangs heavy on the coat rack, smelling of brine and the acrid stench the deceased leave behind (loss, maybe, or bitterness). Doyoung is putting on his shoes when Jaehyun pops his head out of the kitchen and asks.

“Why would you want to?” Doyoung asks.

Jaehyun bites his mouth, cherry red. Doyoung does not stare. “I would rather spend time with you than wait for you to return.”

Doyoung hums softly. “Not used to taking a breather, hmm?” He is familiar with the feeling.

“There are so many interesting things to do here!” Jaehyun argues shamelessly. “It’s not like home.”

“How would you know?” Doyoung asks. If Yuta were here, he’d be snickering — this kind of banter is out of Doyoung’s nature. He bickers with his friends, ignores others when he can, and does little else. “You’re a blank slate, right?”

“I just know.” Jaehyun laughs, pulling his sleeves down over his hands. He is wearing one of Doyoung’s sweaters. “But, like, what you do is interesting.”

Jaehyun has been here for two sleeps. Nights barely exist here, but the gates have closed and opened twice since Jaehyun arrived, and that’s as good a measure as anything.

Yesterday, Doyoung stayed with Jaehyun the entire time, answering questions and walking the shore. He watched Jaehyun throw heavy stones in the water and watched the women who reside there devour them. Doyoung cannot afford to take two days off in a row.

“It’s not a fun job,” Doyoung reminds him.

Jaehyun tilts his head to the side. “But it’s interesting.” Or Jaehyun sees it as such. That’s enough, sometimes.

Doyoung swallows. It is already difficult to say no. He looks at the floor and walks into the hallway. “Let me find you something warm.”

He isn’t sure what the protocol would be for having a human on his boat, but there’s no precedent so there’s no model and thus there’s no one around to tell him he can’t.

It’s a long walk to the pier, but Jaehyun is good company. He is always good company, easy-going and straight-foward. Complicated in some ways and so easy in others. In the past two days his spirits have been on an uphill climb and the color has returned to his face. He is more comfortable than he should be — than Doyoung should allow — but he is incorrigible. He makes fun of Doyoung’s cloak and threatens to jump into the water again. He sings a little under his breath. He is beautiful.

He is nothing that Doyoung can have. That has already been decided.

Still. Doyoung thinks if the water whisked Jaehyun away, he’d be a bit broken by the end of it. Doyoung wishes it were not so but wishes don’t work that way.

“Where did you get the boat?” Jaehyun asks, climbing on board. The boat tips and he stumbles, clicking his tongue indignantly until he catches his balance.

“It’s always been here,” Doyoung says, stepping in after him. He is far more uses to the rock of the water and doesn’t falter. He doesn’t look at Jaehyun getting his bearings. “Before I was created, this boat was here.”

“Dude, is it safe?” Jaehyun rocks gently back and forth and feels the boat sway.

Doyoung laughs under his breath. “Safe enough.” To be honest, this boat could never sink unless perhaps time itself collapsed. It’s tied to something much older than either of them. “The passengers are dead, anyway.”

“Not me!” Jaehyun reaches forward and his hand trails down the billowing sleeves of Doyoung’s cloak. His eyes are wide. “Take care of me.”

“Don’t act cute.” But Doyoung’s cheeks are flaring. “It’s gross.”

Jaehyun snickers, pulling up Doyoung’s hood. His hand brushes Doyoung’s cheek as he settles cowl atop Doyoung’s head. “Yuta doesn’t mind.”

“Yuta likes cute things,” Doyoung admits, holding patiently still as Jaehyun adjusts fabric and form. Jaehyun’s face is not too close but it does pull particular focus. “Also you’re Yuta’s snack.”

“What’s a little nibble, here and there?” Jaehyun’s eyes are wicked for a moment in time and then he pulls away, his hand on Doyoung’s chest a fraction too long to be an accident. He sits down on his bench. “I’ve had worse.”

Doyoung stares at the water as he untethers the vessel and lets the current take them. “I should have left you at home.”

It’s not a bad way to spend a morning.

The dead walk slowly along the opposite side of the shore. They’re ghosts, imprints of a person that doesn’t exist anymore and will never exist again — at least not as they were. In the old days, they would carry gold coins to tip the boatman, like a prayer. Nowadays people forget things like that, but Doyoung doesn’t know what he would do with that many gold coins — he has no use for them here. Doyoung isn’t sure they know what they’re asking for, when they step on his boat, but he’s not sure what’s on the other side of the gates either.

“There are a lot of them,” Jaehyun notes. He reaches out to help one step down into the vessel, but his hand passes through the soul deceased completely. The person doesn’t seem to notice. Jaehyun’s eyes are rather sad, watching them shuffle to the back and take a seat.

“I didn’t pick anyone up, yesterday,” Doyoung admits, free of guilt. There is no hurry for them and thus no harm in waiting. “This is two days worth.”

“Are you the only one who picks people up?”

“Right now? I think so.” Doyoung watches the stream of spirits and sighs. “Some seasons there are more. But I like to keep busy.” He smiles at the water and it’s only a little sad.

Jaehyun hums, watching the water, the souls, the shoreline. “You have always done this?”

Doyoung pulls his cloak tighter around himself. “No.”

It’s quiet.

“I’ve been alive for a long time,” Doyoung continues.

Jaehyun nods. “Some people do the same thing forever.”

“If you find it rewarding.” Doyoung looks over his passengers. “This is boring and morbid.” The spirits are not human enough to be offended. Doyoung is not human enough to worry about being offensive.

“Well, clearly the other thing you did wasn’t rewarding, either,” Jaehyun shoots back, “if you’re doing this now.”

Truthfully, Doyoung has to do this. He does not have a choice. He is the Boatman. “I suppose you’re right.”

The first time Jaehyun followed Doyoung to the gates was harrowing — the shuffling, the weight of it, the line of people miles long until they disappeared beyond the hill. This time, Jaehyun stares at the people in the face, pointed, and barely breathes.

Doyoung is silent while he works. Jaehyun will speak his mind eventually.

“Do you think I know any of them?” Jaehyun asks after staring at the shadows of people who were like him some time ago.

Doyoung couldn’t even begin to guess. “That’s a good thing about not remembering, I guess.” He puts a hand on Jaehyun’s shoulder. “You can’t torture yourself that way.”

Yuta is waiting for them at the pier, as always. His grin is smug when he sees Jaehyun sitting on the edge, holding onto Doyoung’s cloak and threatening to drag him into the water. “Hey, strangers.”

“Shut up,” Doyoung says, tossing Yuta the rope.

“I like your hoodie, Jaehyun,” Yuta chirps. “It looks awfully familiar.”

“It’s Doyoung’s,” is the knowing reply, and Jaehyun sinks into the hoodie a little deeper, self-satisfied.

Doyoung huffs, stepping out of the boat. “You’re both awful.”

Just like the first time, he holds his hand out, and Jaehyun takes it.

“Speaking of awful,” Yuta starts, hands in his pockets and a smile plastered on his face, “you’ll never guess who stopped by.”

Doyoung freezes.

Jaehyun is interested — of course he is. Jaehyun does not know what’s good for him. “Is it someone weird?”

There are very few people it could be and the look on Yuta’s face, cat and canary, is enough to tell Doyoung exactly the chaos to come. “Please don’t call him that,” Doyoung begs, untying his cloak and letting it hang like a shield. He’ll need. “He’ll throw you into the river himself.”

“He would never dirty his hands like that.” Yuta finishes securing the boat and dusts his hands off on his pants. “And he’s not weird. He’s just—”

“So much.” Doyoung groans, covering his face with his hands. He smells like brine and death and Jaehyun, who also smells like brine and death. “He’s so much.”

“You’ve been flirting so much recently,” Yuta tells him, patting Doyoung on the back, and Jaehyun straightens a bit as they walk down to the main street. “Jungwoo will be so happy. You’re almost a confident gay.”

“Cease,” Doyoung says coldly. He has not been flirting.

Jaehyun clears his throat, feet shuffling awkwardly on the pavement. “Jungwoo?” There is no one else on the dock, and even over the gentle thrumming of the water the name name rings unnaturally loud. There is uncertanty in it, but no fear.

Doyoung sighs, but he pats Jaehyun’s arm. “He’s sweet. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not,” Jaehyun insists, his mouth is a thin line.

“He’s nice! You’ll hate him.” Yuta clings onto Jaehyun’s arm. “And he has a wonderful sense of timing.”

Wonderful meaning terrible, because Jungwoo thrives on chaos, and he loves making Doyoung suffer. Doyoung has no doubts as to how much teasing will come out of this visit. Between Jaehyun and Jungwoo, he’ll return back to the soil like the demons of old.

There’s a figure in the distance, rising out of the mist. Unbothered. Lazy, almost, despite the odd howls coming from the east. One can be lazy when one is frightening. There is nothing that can touch him.

Jungwoo is beautiful, as always, and fearsome.

His hair is swept up off of his forehead and his visage is sweet and his eyes are bright blue, webbed with cataracts. Unfocused and all-seeing.

“Doyoungie,” he sings, wiggling like a child. He is a child, in many ways, and terrifying in others. He holds his arms out and Doyoung falls into them, as always. “You are much better to hug than Yuta.”

Yuta scoffs. “Hey!”

“Too bony,” Jungwoo continues, saccharine. “So many teeth. Barely civilized. Doyoungie is perfect.”

Doyoung huffs. “I smell like fish.”

Jungwoon pinches Doyoung’s cheek so hard it turns red. “Don’t talk about yourself that way.” He hums, patting the blush until Doyoung swats his hand away, and considers. “This is a bad job for you.”

Doyoung rubs the red skin, eager to soothe it. “Well.” There’s nothing he can say to that.

“Won’t you give me a welcome home kiss?” Jungwoo coos.

Jaehyun darkens. The star in him dims and his expression is black. Yuta laughs at the change so sudden.

Jungwoo Sees Jaehyun then, feels the shift in the air and finds it funny enough to smile. “Ah!”

“Jungwoo,” Doyoung warns, hand coming up to his friend’s wrist, but nothing can stop him when he bites his teeth into something.

“Human.” Jungwoo reaches out towards Jaehyun. The tips of his fingers stop inches from Jaehyun’s chin. “So interesting.”

“I can see what you meant,” Jaehyun tells Doyoung, but he allows Jungwoo to grab hold of him with minimal protest. Not quite obedient, not quite passive, a coil carefully held back.

Delicate hands cradle Jaehyun’s face, and Jungwoo stares at him, unblinking.

He howls in delight. “Oh, Doyoungie.” Jungwoo pats Jaehyun’s cheeks, far gentler than he’d been with his old friend. “You found someone so satisfying.”

Doyoung frowns.

“You’re one of a kind, Jaehyunie,” Jungwoo says softly, well into Jaehyun’s space. The hands cradling Jaehyun’s face pull him closer into an embrace and Jaehyun does not fight him. It is smarter that way.

Jaehyun does not ask how Jungwoo knows his name. He does not ask anything. He has learned better. He waits.

Jungwoo doesn’t care. “I’ve never even heard of one.” Mostly to himself, like a whisper on the wind. A delighted child. Something altogether dark and shining at the same time.

And here, the question bubbles up, if only out of politeness. “What?” Jaehyun raises an eyebrow. “A human in Hell?”

“You are not the first,” Jungwoo tells him with a small smile. There have been many humans in the Underworld, with various gruesome or melancholic endings. Jaehyun is the most recent in a great number, though he’s the only one with a soul and no purpose.

Doyoung finds a good idea among his musing. “Do you know how to send him home?” he asks, because Johnny is powerful but Jungwoo is all-knowing and enjoys showing off.

Jungwoo tilts his head sideways, so reminiscent of Jaehyun this morning. It is a human affectation, picked up over time. “Why would I?” He’s confused, clearly, and knows more than Doyoung. Has always known more, since he traded his sight for something unnatural.

“I’m not going home,” Jaehyun reminds Doyoung forcibly, not moving out of Jungwoo’s grasp but shooting daggers that never miss. “Stop trying to get rid of me.”

Jungwoo laughs.

Truly Doyoung only wants Jaehyun to know happiness. It is difficult to convince Jaehyun of Doyoung’s good intentions because there’s no reason for that to be so. Doyoung has no reasons to feel so strongly about sending Jaehyun from whence he came. He wants to convince Jaehyun they both want the same things — for an end to Jaehyun’s suffering, whatever that might be.

And even still, their methods vary; Doyoung wants to restore, and Jaehyun wants to stand in place. Frustrating.

There’s a fire burning, and Jaehyun can try as he might but he will never hold it still. It will never stop until it burns out.

“I don’t want to send you away,” Doyoung croaks. He shivers. Darkness is setting. This is the time to return to their houses and wait until this space settles into something solid. There’s too much shifting at this hour.

“You couldn’t, anyway,” Yuta says casually. His eyes glow yellow as the fog rises up from the earth. “You’ve used up all your favors.”

It is true. Doyoung lifts his chin.

“I like him,” Jungwoo says, clear and concise, arms coming down to grip Jaehyun’s shoulders. He has not let go and Jaehyun is waiting patiently for freedom. “How often do you get to see something incredible? It’d be such a waste to send him away.”

Doyoung agrees Jaehyun is rather incredible but he realizes his own bias.

Jungwoo’s grin curls into something nearly sinister. “How often do you get to see a human who has made two deals with the devil and survived them both?”

🕯🕯🕯

Their small party walks forward but Doyoung’s mind is stuck behind, even several hundred heartbeats later. “What was he talking about?”

“I don’t know.” Jaehyun’s mood has rotted in their time since the boat. He doesn’t like Jungwoo but likes being impolite even less, and the push and pull of it has left him sour. Humans can never choose just one feeling. They are always very complicated in silly ways. “I don’t know anything, remember?”

Doyoung’s first instinct is to light on fire but Jaehyun reeks of discomfort and so there’s little to be done about his moodiness. “I...figured you’d made a deal,” he says slowly. There is no reason for a human to be here if they have not had a brush with the unnatural. “But two…”

It’s unheard of. Deals are meant to steal something necessary; not many people survive their first loss with enough of themselves to give more away.

Doyoung is very familiar with those kinds of deals. He’s very good at them.

“Guess the first deal did a shitty job,” Yuta mentions with a shrug, after the shock of Jungwoo’s words settled into the pavement and left them more room to breathe.

Doyoung peers at Jaehyun in the darkness and sees a human in all sense of the word. There is nothing missing beyond his memories. Everything else is in there, however broken. “Guess so,” he agrees.

Jungwoo laughs. He’s always laughing.

Their small group walks along the pier. The water is a murky black, just shy of stagnant. On a warmer day it might be nice to fall in, but there are rarely warmer days. Jaehyun is close enough that Doyoung can feel the warmth of his body, but they do not touch.

“Do you mind that you don’t remember?” Doyoung asks quietly.

“I feel like I should,” Jaehyun admits. “But I don’t. I just…” A soft huff, shaken. “I wish I knew enough to appease you.”

Doyoung scoffs, surprised. “I don’t need to be appeased.” In reality, Doyoung knows enough for the both of them.

Jungwoo is a fearsome creature, and he grabs at Jaehyun’s hands, doubling back so suddenly it’s jarring. The jolt through Jaehyun could be fear or shock or something more electric.

“Hello,” Jaehyun huffs, and the party stalls.

There’s something wild in the glowing of Jungwoo’s eyes, blue-white fire. “They really took all of you.” He clicks his tongue. “You would have given away even more, so I suppose it’s not surprising.”

Doyoung looks at Jungwoo, lethal. He wants to ask _who who who_ because this creature has answers. But he should know better than to encourage Jungwoo’s more eccentric habits. Gently he pries Jungwoo’s hands from Jaehyun, finger by finger. “Don’t be greedy. You’ve had enough today, haven’t you?”

It’s true. Jungwoo glows and Doyoung knows he is sated. Jungwoo grins, caught.

“Please don’t touch me,” Jaehyun tells Jungwoo darkly, his hands pulled to his chest. “You’re taking something and I don’t like it.”

“Leave him alone, Jungwoo,” Doyoung snips. “Bother Yuta instead.”

Yuta enjoys both putting on a show and being dangerous. “It’s been a while since we played.” His skin is sallow and his eyes are hungry. His teeth glint in the lamplight. “Would you like to feed me, baby?”

Jungwoo smiles sweetly. “You would choke on my blood, fool.” He holds his arm out, and Yuta circles it with delicate fingers. “Take no more than you are given, hmm?”

A soft whine into the skin of Jungwoo’s wrist. “Stingy.” Yuta grins, lips brushing unblemished skin.

Doyoung puts an arm around Jaehyun’s shoulders and walks ahead. There’s nothing there they need to see.

Jaehyun is too curious for his own good. “What did Jungwoo take?” Despite his obvious discomfort he leans into Doyoung without fear being torn apart and Doyoung cannot help but think he does not deserve it. He would feed from Jaehyun under different circumstances. He has fed from many people like Jaehyun many times over.

“He was hungry,” Doyoung says. “Humans are always a better meal than people like me, and Jungwoo has been insatiable for as long as I’ve known him. It’s much harder to unbalance someone who has seen everything.”

“Do you all feed on something different?” Jaehyun’s eyes are open and unbothered. He’s fearsome, too, perhaps more than Jungwoo, because Jaehyun has every right to be afraid and never takes it.

Doyoung is not sure how much he should share. “There’s overlap.” Surely there is a threshold, some breaking point where Jaehyun will learn too much. Perhaps that would be in Doyoung’s favor, since he wants Jaehyun to return to himself. He bites his lip. “Yuta needs blood, Jungwoo eats confusion. Some of us need tar and smoke. There are incubi and succubi. Johnny is stuck collecting things for the rest of his life, like an itch he can’t scratch.”

Johnny used to collect knowledge, and when that got boring he began collecting mugs.

Doyoung’s arm is still over Jaehyun’s shoulder, and Jaehyun rests his hand naturally at Doyoung’s hip, and they walk in step. “And you?” he asks. “What do you feed on?”

Ah. Doyoung clears his throat. “Wishes.”

Jaehyun frowns. “Wishes?”

Doyoung breathes white fog. “Wants, desires.” The temperature has cooled, even as they leave the water behind. “Humans want a lot of things. I’m always fed.”

He is fed less often these days, as the dead only want one thing and that is peace. It’s not a varied diet. Doyoung eats to survive, so he survives. Humans are much more delicious when they’re alive.

The hand at Doyoung’s hip squeezes tight. “What do I want?” Jaehyun inquires, nearly coy.

So much. Jaehyun wants so much.

Doyoung’s hand travels from Jaehyun’s shoulder to his neck, a gentle pressure, and the stutter in Jaehyun’s breathing talks too loud. “I could feed on you, and find out,” Doyoung offers, because he is wicked by nature and cannot stop himself from taking something freely offered, although he tries. He hums. “Or is that what you want?”

They have walked far ahead, leaving Yuta and Jungwoo behind to consume, and now they’ve halted in the middle of the road. Doyoung could eat if he wanted to. Jaehyun doesn’t step closer, nor does he step away. He has a terrifying power. Doyoung rarely hesitates.

He removes his hand. “But I am always fed,” Doyoung says after a moment.

Doyoung has his own wishes, wants, desires, and he holds onto them with a tight fist because there’s no space for them anywhere else.

Jaehyun’s eyes are far away. He is beautiful. His pale hair shines like a light, or a beacon. “What does it feel like?” He lowers his gaze, bites at his mouth until it’s red and tempting. “Yuta fed on me, and it felt…”

“Yuta took very little of you,” Doyoung reminds him. “You’re welcome for that, by the way.”

“It was nice!” Jaehyun defends, one hand grazing the ruined skin on his neck, still healing. “When you feed, does it feel like that? Or is it like when you…?”

“What I, what?”

Jaehyun is ashen. “When you took my soul out?”

Doyoung’s heart would ache if he had one. As it is, he feels quite hollow. Perhaps there’s something growing in his chest, where something would beat if he were flesh and blood. “Soul removal doesn’t hurt.”

“But it did.”

“It was not my taking that hurt you,” Doyoung says, although in truth he’s not sure.

“My head swam,” Jaehyun whispers, scratching at his neck. “I wanted to die.”

Doyoung holds a breath. “Perhaps...it was just a bad memory.” He looks behind, and sees they’ve long left the others in the dust. “Perhaps, so I am.”

🕯🕯🕯

The town by the pier is nothing special, but Doyoung has spent much of his life here. It is a small crossroads in a great unknown. There are certainly many interesting things for people who have never seen such peculiarities.

A woman drags herself out of the abyss to sell delicate crystals she says are good luck, but they’re a bit cursed, so everything is on sale. There’s a bar and a bowling alley. Around the corner there’s a flower shop, but the shopkeeper is as dead as his wares, and he waters decay because he can’t tell the difference. The shop is rarely open.

Buskers spin fire into music. A creature made of stone hands Jaehyun a glass flower, livelier than those at the flower shop and three times as pretty. Jaehyun tucks it behind his ear with a laugh. “Am I beautiful?” he asks.

This heart that Doyoung does not have sure is a nuisance.

“Are you going to tell him?” Jungwoo inquires, linking their arms together.

Doyoung clenches his jaw and allows himself to be taken away. “It’s better if he doesn’t know.”

“How can you say that?” Jungwoo asks with a laugh. “You’re quite blind.”

But they both know that Doyoung is running out of time.

“Doyoung?” Jaehyun spins on his heels, pulling Yuta to a halt. The flower glimmers in his hair. “Is there food around here?”

“Haven’t you learned from Persephone?” Yuta’s smile shows he thinks he’s clever.

“If I eat all the pomegranate seeds, will Doyoung still be determined to send me away?” Jaehyun asks Yuta, coyly looking at Doyoung through his lashes.

Jungwoo clicks his tongue. “ _Doyoung does not have the power to send you away._ ” Over and over, it’s a bitter reminder. His grip on Doyoung tightens to the point of bruises. “Look at him. He’s weak.”

For a demon, Doyoung can’t deny it. His head is full of worries, and he wants too much to be strong. He’s stupid. His head is stupid, and weak, and he lifts his chin, mulish. “I’m not feeding you tonight,” he hisses, sour. “Stop meddling.”

Jungwoo is too proud. “Never.”

There is food around, the vendors delighted to trade treats for a secret or two. Doyoung has the most, so he spits one into a glass jar and sees it sealed away. “Thank you for your patronage,” says the young woman, handing Jaehyun something hot.

The smell of fried food reminds Doyoung of old times, and the secrets lining her shelf shine beautifully. There is sugar coating Jaehyun’s fingers and mouth. It’s an excellent business. Doyoung would like to come back.

Jaehyun has a human body, a beating heart, and he’s tired long before the rest of them are done strolling. He wrings his used napkin and leans against Doyoung’s shoulder.

“We should go home,” Doyoung says, and the others dissipate like mist.

The human pauses and buries his face in Doyoung’s shirt. “Let’s go home.”

Doyoung is warm despite the chill and his own frozen body.

The woman made of smoke is sitting on the curb outside, and she lets her eyes fall over Jaehyun lazily. “I see,” she says. Her gaze is never piercing — Doyoung is not certain she has that much life left in her — but she laughs. “Shall I call you Eurydice?”

“He’s no Orpheus,” Doyoung replies, an echo.

“Your friend is right,” she tells him. “You are quite blind.”

They make their way inside without a rebuttal, and Jaehyun toes his shoes off at the door with a sigh. “Your friends are so weird.”

“I would deny it, but I can’t.” Doyoung huffs. He would not call the smoke and mirror of a woman his friend but she is quite strange. “I hate them all.”

“Don’t be a baby.” Jaehyun is sleepy, and soft, and he wraps his arms around Doyoung’s waist thoughtlessly. He settles. “They are kind to you.”

Doyoung resists smoothing a hand down Jaehyun’s back. “Is that all you need?”

“I don’t know,” Jaehyun says. “Maybe. I can’t remember.” He comes closer.

There’s no purpose in it. Doyoung is stiff as a board, but Jaehyun must find some kind of comfort here, because he slumps into Doyoung’s chest and his breathing evens.

“You are taller than I am,” Doyoung argues, although he adjusts Jaehyun into a better position even as he complains.

“Barely.” The words are muffled in Doyoung’s neck. Doyoung shivers, and Jaehyun smiles, proud of himself. “You like it.”

“No.”

Jaehyun sighs. “I should have known you were a liar.”

Doyoung won’t say it doesn’t burn.

“I like you,” Jaehyun admits to a silent room. “I wish you’d tell me you liked me, too.”

“You barely know me.” Doyoung finds his arms wrapping around Jaehyun’s waist, and perhaps there is a purpose in this, and it’s for Doyoung. This is easy. Something in Doyoung bleeds out — tension, maybe, or whatever feeling he’s holding captive in his chest.

“But I feel like I know you,” Jaehyun admits. “Isn’t that terrifying?”

It’s a funny question. Between the two of them, Doyoung is more terrified.

Jaehyun sleeps like a baby, and Doyoung pulls at his hair with shaking hands. There’s peace for one of them in this confession, because only one of them knows what it truly means.

Doyoung isn’t sure who is who.

He bites his thumb and smears his mouth red. “Johnny,” Doyoung cries out into an empty kitchen, desperate, and when he opens his eyes he is standing in front of that stupid store. He pushes the doors open, too forceful.

Johnny is standing at the register. “You don’t need to summon me,” he says, a bit sad. “We’re friends. I’ll come when you call.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Doyoung says, embarrassingly broken. He’s lurching from his sudden journey, and this stupid heart he doesn’t have was left behind and he feels it’s missing space. He clings to the counter. “He’s been here a week, and I’m ruined.”

“You’ve been ruined a lot longer than a week.” Johnny’s eyes are pitch black. It’s comforting, like a void Doyoung can fall into. “It’s not his fault.”

“It’s absolutely his fault.” Doyoung’s hands are in tight fists, white-knuckled, and he knocks on the wood of the display table to dispel his black luck. “I was trying to avoid this.”

“Perhaps it can’t be avoided.”

Doyoung scoffs. “You think?”

Jaehyun, floating in the river, hands beating against the side of Doyoung’s boat — is that more shocking than what came before, or more devastating than what’s sure to come after? It’s a rotten feeling, desire.

“Would you have left him to the water?” Johnny asks.

There’s no question. “No.” Doyoung can’t lie to himself.

Johnny blinks slowly, unsurprised. “Then you are surely ruined.”

“I wish I could have,” Doyoung says into his hands. He would beg these hands to have left Jaehyun in the water. He belongs anywhere else but here. “There’s nothing for him here, with me. Even if he wants it more than anything.”

Jaehyun is more powerful than he knows. Doyoung has stood on solid ground for centuries, and now he’s shaken.

“You’re determined to see the bad in this,” Johnny says, placing his hand over Doyoung’s arm. The kindness is not unusual but it is jarring, and Doyoung’s jolts. “But there was a time where you gave up everything for this, and now you won’t let him do the same. It isn’t fair.”

“It was a stupid decision, on my part,” Doyoung says, spitting at himself. This decision that made him a boatkeeper, and ruined him, irrevocably. Or rather, a series of choices, that Doyoung can’t bring himself to take back.

“Say what you will.” Johnny’s voice is mild. “Whatever you think, it was the most human thing you’ve ever done.”

“What?” Doyoung laughs. He runs his hand through the sea of keychains that hang from a stand nearby. They clink, plastic and fake. There are few things here that are real. “Fall in love?”

Johnny purses his lips. “Humans are not the only ones capable of love.” His gaze is direct. “A dog will follow it’s master to the end of the earth. The ocean returns to shore no matter what. There’s love in those things.”

“Then what?” Doyoung is a desperate creature, derisive. “I’m no more a man than he is a god.”

“You broke a contract,” Johnny says solemnly. “You went back on your word. There’s nothing more human than that.”

🕯🕯🕯

Doyoung returns to a quiet home with a body full of lead. He shuts the door behind him with a quiet click, the sound of all the puzzle pieces that don’t fit. The lights are off. Doyoung toes off his shoes and places them hesitantly next to Jaehyun’s, lined up on the tile.

The gates have long since closed, but Doyoung himself feels open and vulnerable. It’s disgusting. He hasn’t felt that way in such a long time.

Something howls outside, desperate to sleep but too sad to lay down and let it go. Perhaps it was the wind. She’s awfully loud some nights.

Summoning Johnny was a mistake, Doyoung decides, because Johnny is a good friend but he’s not a liar and he’s not forgiving. His kind aren’t meant to be. He’s the sweetest thing Doyoung has ever met, but he’s brutal.

Doyoung isn’t sweet or kind or human, and he’s a shitty demon, and Jaehyun is going to run him into the ground.

He sinks into the kitchen chair and holds his head in his hands. His fingers shake, a critical weakness. They can’t shake where Jaehyun can see them. If Doyoung gives an inch Jaehyun will take a mile, and Doyoung will go along. He clenches his hands and counts the white knuckles.

Why is he holding back? Why is he doing such a shitty job of it?

A week. Just a week.

Doyoung is so weak.

Breaking that contract took all the strength Doyoung had, and then whatever was leftover he gave to the water, and then Jaehyun bubbled up from the murk. Lost, but maybe not. Between the two of them, Jaehyun seems more certain.

“Why are you here?” Doyoung asks the open air. He’s sweating for no reason. His mind is racing. He wants to sleep. He’s never really wanted to sleep before. Not for such a long time. Doyoung rolls his neck, wishes his bones could pop. His skin burns.

There’s creaking, and Doyoung is not the only one awake.

Jaehyun is standing there with his fuzzy blanket draped over his shoulders like a cape — like he’s a king, maybe, and his bed head is a crown. His face is already puffy, from the food and the few hours of sleep, but his eyes are alert.

“What is that?” he asks, a little breathlessly.

“Hmm?” Doyoung looks at him and accepts that he wants to be closer. “What?”

And like Jaehyun feels Doyoung admit it to himself, he draws closer. He hesitates, like maybe there’s a barrier he can’t see, but his fingers are soon brushing over Doyoung’s neck.

Something flares, and Doyoung knows what Jaehyun is asking.

“They’re runes,” he whispers, and Jaehyun’s eyes are sharp as the tip of his finger trails from just behind Doyoung’s ear to where the ink disappears in the neck of Doyoung’s shirt. “I don’t show them all the time.” Only when he’s exhausted, bone-deep, or when he trusts, bone-deep.

“Can I see them?”

Doyoung grins, a little crooked, a little defeated. “You’re looking at them, aren’t you?”

Jaehyun looks less soft than he should. “Can I see more of them?” All of them. They both know what he’s asking, how much he’s asking. This isn’t Doyoung giving an inch — they’ve skipped straight to Jaehyun asking for a mile. It shouldn’t feel so big.

Doyoung is Atlas, and Jaehyun is his sky.

But he stands up wordlessly and pulls off his shirt. He is defeated. He cannot fight much longer. Jaehyun blinks, like maybe he wasn’t expecting so much skin, and maybe he wasn’t. But the runes curl down Doyoung’s neck, falling down his back like a waterfall. They creep up from the insides of his wrists, lines of black ink that can’t be read.

Doyoung isn’t beautiful the way Jaehyun is, but he isn’t sure Jaehyun realizes yet.

He looks ghostly in the dim lighting, his skin pale, the runes a stark contrast, and he feels vulnerable. Johnny opened up Doyoung’s ribcage and picked him raw, and now Jaehyun is staring at the bloody aftermath.

Jaehyun’s hand is frozen in the space between them and his eyes track the tattoos with bizarre focus. He breaks the distance, hand on Doyoung’s skin, and the runes shift slightly, burning gold. “What do they mean?” he asks.

“Whatever I need them to mean,” Doyoung replies.

It’s latent magic, old and powerful. When Doyoung was a demon who walked the earth and made contracts and stole souls it was useful. The magic changes to his needs with a whisper. A rune for invisibility, a rune for inciting fear or cowardice or paranoia, a rune for healing, a rune for decay.

Some he used more than others.

There’s no point to them now. The water doesn’t need to be healed, and the dead are too far gone to be fearful. The ink sinks down to the depths until Doyoung’s mind is full of enough white noise he forgets to keep them there.

“They look…” Jaehyun bites his lip.

Something tips, and Doyoung isn’t certain it’s in his favor.

Jaehyun’s eyes are glazed over, not with sleep but with something like nostalgia. He frowns at Doyoung’s back, lets his finger tip trail down Doyoung’s shoulder blade—

—scratches his nails down pale skin, unexpected, and listens to the thin sound Doyoung makes.

Doyoung closes his eyes, his last defense.

Jaehyun grabs his chin, cups Doyoung’s face with one hand, stares. His breathing is so rapid. Doyoung can hear Jaehyun’s heart racing, and his soul shaking.

God, Doyoung thinks, how many times is he going to play this cruel game?

“Doie?” Jaehyun’s voice is so small, so far away. Sad. Confused. Familiar.

Doyoung’s eyes flutter open. “Please don’t do this to yourself.” Also familiar.

There’s another presence there, between them, and a tinkling laugh, and Doyoung’s brain tries to catch onto it, tries to put the pieces together, but then the blanket on Jaehyun’s shoulders fall to the floor, and Jaehyun steps away from him, and that’s all he can think about.

“A bad memory,” Jaehyun echoes; to himself, to Doyoung, to the empty air.

Doyoung tried. He really fucking tried.

Jaehyun leans on the kitchen table, the heel of his palm to his temple. “Fuck,” he mutters. He’s visibly shaking. If someone truly did take his memories, his mind trying to make the connection is fruitless and frustrating.

“Don’t think about it too much,” Doyoung says, tired.

“Don’t make decisions for me,” Jaehyun shoots back.

“I’m not...” Doyoung holds himself around the middle. “You don’t care about yourself, Jaehyun.” Jaehyun, who let Yuta feed on him without a care, who threw away his health and safety and humanity for success, who showed up in the water with nothing left.

Jaehyun, who leaves the house without his fucking shoes on.

The door slams with brutal finality, and Doyoung is left alone, just what he wanted.

Doyoung shivers, shirt still hanging uselessly in his hand, and falls back into his chair. What a stupid night.

🕯🕯🕯

Doyoung isn’t sure how long he sits there in his chair. A part of him thinks he’s waiting for Jaehyun to come back. Another part of him wonders whether he should let Yuta know to keep an eye out. There are things here that could hurt a demon and break a human irrevocably.

But Jungwoo sees so much and is not cruel. Yuta is probably already aware that Jaehyun is wandering through Hell.

Doyoung sinks down, head in hands. “What am I doing?” It’s a better question than _what have I done_ _._ He doesn’t have an answer to either of them.

Someone laughs.

Doyoung is alone.

And he remembers that presence, that laugh. It strikes a chord, too familiar. “Ten.” Of course, it’s fucking Ten. Ten is as hellish a being as Doyoung knows, one that loves meddling for the sake of meddling. They’re friends, somehow, but Ten isn’t as kind as Johnny, and doesn’t come when he’s called.

Doyoung bites his thumb and smears red on the kitchen table. “Ten.”

Still nothing. Even summoned, Ten keeps laughing. And then he’s gone, like a breeze, and Doyoung is alone in the silence again.

But following Ten is a goose chase. Even if they’re friends Ten is flighty when he wants to be and insufferable even when he’s caught. Dealing with him sounds exhausting. Doyoung has not energy left to wonder and still he can’t help himself. What’s his part in this? Doyoung cleans up the blood with a paper towel and decides he doesn’t care.

How long has it been?

Doyoung messages Yuta — _is Jaehyun alright?_

And Yuta messages back, prompt. _Jungwoo says you should go for a walk._

Jungwoo can kiss Doyoung’s ass, as far as he’s concerned. And then Yuta texts again, a picture of Jungwoo flipping him off, and Doyoung decides he’d rather take a walk than be confronted by his friends.

The stupid lines on Doyoung’s forearms shimmer gold even in the dim light of his kitchen. He holds his arms out in front of himself and inspects them for the millionth time. It’s all their fault, he decides. That fractured memory was enough to make Jaehyun remember he should be afraid of what Doyoung is, of what Doyoung can do.

Doyoung could destroy him, if he wanted to. He’s gotten so perilously close too many times.

With a heavy sigh, Doyoung pulls his shirt back on, touches his fingers to the ink on his neck until he feels it sink back under his skin where the magic always lies. He stands up from his chair with a groan, head aching to the point where he almost feels flesh and bone. He pads into the front room and toes on his shoes.

He is more afraid than he has ever been — not of the outside, but of how much Jaehyun remembers.

In a weird way, this is what he wanted. If Jaehyun remembers what he has to lose and how little he has to gain then he’ll want to return to the land of the living, and maybe Johnny will send him home. That’s what Doyoung wants.

He’s lying to himself but it makes it easier to move on to the next day.

For now, Doyoung takes a walk.

He moves through the streets in a fog. His bones ache — he’s exhausted, and hollow, and something he’s never been before. Is it regret? It hasn’t been very long since his stomach twisted this way, but the last time it was Jaehyun’s fault as well.

Someone’s lit a lantern and it casts a flickering light over the pavement, warding off evil or maybe hanging there until someone remembers where they left it. A shadow hangs beneath, something sad left behind for a passerby to pick up.

Doyoung wonders what time it would be up above. Is the sun out? Is the sky blue? Above him everything is murky black. It feels like nighttime, but it always feels that way. Does Jaehyun miss the sun? Surely that’s not a memory someone can take away from him, and surely he misses it. There are things intrinsically human that don’t deserve to be taken away.

For so long he’s been wondering what kind of creature took Jaehyun’s memories, but as the pieces start falling together, it’s time to ask a different question — why did Jaehyun give them away?

If it truly was Ten’s doing, then Ten never takes; he trades.

“Asshole,” Doyoung mutters, shoes on pavement, but he isn’t certain who he’s referring to.

Perhaps he should be searching for Jaehyun. He won’t say that he’s not worried — he’s lied to himself too much tonight. Fate has had too many chances to rip Jaehyun to shreds. No one has survived the way Jaehyun has. She’ll leave him alone, for whatever that’s worth.

But Doyoung also doesn’t feel like he deserves Jaehyun’s company. Jaehyun left because he wanted to leave. Perhaps Doyoung should have stayed, because one of them must.

Staying suits Doyoung. Change is not terrifying when you’re as old as he is, but some things are constant, and Doyoung knows what is safe. Jaehyun is not safe. The way Doyoung feels is not safe.

The water, for all its turmoil, is constant — not safe, but steady, and there’s worth in that, too.

Doyoung heads towards the pier.

Everything always comes back to the water. It’s cruel in a way, how you can never escape from it. It’s always cold, and it’s always unforgiving, but it continues to welcome you back.

Jaehyun is standing on the shore, knee-deep, welcomed.

Doyoung laughs to himself. Fate has decided she’s done leaving them alone. Or maybe she’s always had a hand in this, and that’s why Doyoung can’t escape from it.

He’s really beautiful, Doyoung thinks, and it’s selfish. Jaehyun’s pale hair is sticking to the back of his neck. He’s wearing that awful _I ♥ Chicago_ t-shirt, and his eyes are red and puffy, but when he turns around, that’s what Doyoung thinks. Jaehyun is beautiful.

And he’s angry and lost and so human. His soul is shining so brightly tonight. This is the most alive Doyoung has ever seen him.

“What have you done to me?” Jaehyun asks, wild. The river races around him, cradling him like an old friend.

“Please come out of the water,” Doyoung replies, slow and measured.

The waves lap at Jaehyun’s calves, and Doyoung is not sure how long Jaehyun has been standing there but it’s a miracle nothing has pulled him under — or it would be, if Doyoung believed in miracles. The material of Jaehyun’s pants are soaked, even rolled up to the knee, and his chest heaves. He’s desperate. His pupils are blown. A hand, inky black, tugs at the cotton of his shirt and goes ignored.

“Why are you in the river?” Doyoung tries.

“Because it’s where I came from,” Jaehyun answers, and it’s disjointed, but it’s reason enough. “Or...maybe it called.”

Doyoung swallows. “Maybe the water can take you home.”

The muscles in Jaehyun’s jaw work so hard, he grinds his teeth to a pulp and spits out the shards. “I don’t want to go home; I want to know what you’ve done!” A pause, and something small — “I want to know what I want.”

“I haven’t done anything,” Doyoung explains, and it’s not quite the truth. “Nothing you didn’t ask me to do.”

“You…” Jaehyun whines, his hands flying up to his head. “I can’t remember. I’m so...fuck.” He laughs, raking fingers through his hair. “I remember how you sound and how you feel and that’s…”

Doyoung releases a shaking breath.

Jaehyun stares at him through his fingers. “Did you...am I imagining everything? Did you force me to feel that way?”

“No.” Doyoung does not want to encourage the remembering, but there are lines he has never crossed. “Contracts are complicated enough as it is.”

“Then…” Jaehyun laughs, hysterical, almost giddy. “Am I really in love with you?”

Jaehyun is the one sinking into the riverbank, but it’s Doyoung who reels like he’s drowning. “I…” He swallows, thick, and this heart he’s been growing pounds until his ribs ache. “I don’t know.”

In the distance, something sings. It sounds lonely.

Jaehyun stands in the water, holding his head, cheeks flushed. The creatures in the water pull at his clothes gently; perhaps in comfort, perhaps in solidarity, perhaps in greed. “I don’t remember anything.” Jaehyun is close to tears, not with emotion but out of frustration. “I remember you, but not clearly, and everything is blurry, but I want it.”

Doyoung wants to tell him what they both know — _I can’t give that to you_ — but the words get lost in his stomach and taste like acid.

“But I don’t remember how I got there.” Jaehyun drops his hands to his sides, and he clenches his fists like he’s grabbing at nothing. “It doesn’t feel real.”

“Is any of this real?” Doyoung asks.

Jaehyun is so sad, but his eyes aren’t empty like they used to be. “I’m not sure.”

Doyoung holds out his hand. “Come out of the river.”

The hands hold on tighter, too welcoming. Jaehyun touches one of them with his fingertip and it hooks around his belt loop in response. “I don’t know if I can.”

Carefully, Doyoung kicks off his shoes.

The water is cold when he steps in, because it’s always cold. The hands hold him down, because they don’t know anything else. The distant singing sounds less lonely. Doyoung holds out his hand, one more time.

Jaehyun is warm.

He’s sunk down a few inches in the sand of the shore, up past his ankles, because he’s shorter than Doyoung now. He rests his forehead in Doyoung’s collar bone. They both smell like brine. “This feels familiar,” Jaehyun mumbles.

Doyoung hums. “I’ve held you before.” The first of many memories he is forced to acknowledge.

“Will you hold me after?’

“Is that a pick-up line?” Wry.

Jaehyun’s laugh sounds like he’s drowning, watery and warbled. “Maybe.” He buries his face further in Doyoung’s shirt. “This is enough for now, I guess.”

There’s a moment between them in the turmoil, not safe but steady, and then Doyoung pulls Jaehyun from the water.

🕯🕯🕯

For what it’s worth, Jaehyun tries to walk on his own two feet. “I feel like jelly,” he mutters, five minutes after they’ve left the water. His soggy footprints sink into the pavement, evaporated in a moment and forgotten in the fog. “No bones.”

“Of course you have bones,” Doyoung teases, shaking Jaehyun’s shoulders. “Even I have bones.”

The shaking is too much, and even as Jaehyun laughs he still stumbles. “No bones,” he says again, leaning against Doyoung. His breath is so warm. They both shiver.

Doyoung ends up carrying Jaehyun on his back, truly Atlas and his sky, but it’s more comforting than a punishment should be. It almost feels like a luxury. Doyoung hasn’t been this warm in so long. The last time was also Jaehyun’s doing.

Doyoung starts the long walk. “I think the water took something from you.”

“I think so, too.” Jaehyun rests his cheek against Doyoung’s neck. “Everything has a price, right?”

“That’s assuming the water gave you something in return.”

Beside them the water churns, not quite lazy. There are no hands reaching out of the murk, no shadows that Doyoung’s can’t quite make out, but that is the terrifying truth of the matter — just because you cannot see it does not mean it is not there. The water is powerful and takes what it wants. Doyoung rarely hears about it giving anything but Jaehyun has always been special.

“Comfort, maybe.” Jaehyun closes his eyes. “Courage...just enough to remember.”

This is the question that Doyoung fears most. “You want to remember?” he asks quietly.

“I want to be sure,” Jaehyun replies, so soft that only Doyoung can hear.

That lonely song in the distance still sings, but even the siren is drifting into something distant and disjointed. For a place that doesn’t sleep the air is hazy like a mind dozing off, like the whole world has stopped for a moment to rest.

They walk along the shore, the fragile line between earth and cement. Jaehyun’s pants are still rolled up. Doyoung’s hands press against wet skin, and the back of Doyoung’s jacket is slowly soaked through. There’s mud on Jaehyun’s feet up to the ankle. Muddy handprints trail up his legs and torso. It dries and flakes off in their wake, and Doyoung’s does not mind the dirt on his sleeve as much as he thought he would.

“Don’t forget your shoes next time,” he tells Jaehyun, “even if you’re angry.”

“Next time, don’t make me angry.” Jaehyun’s words are petulant but he is smiling. Doyoung can hear him smiling. “I’m not sure I even was angry. Maybe I just didn’t want my shoes, so you would carry me later.”

As if his disappearance had any forethought. “I’m carrying you because you can’t walk in a straight line,” is Doyoung’s terse reply. “You left your shoes, you can face the asphalt as a consequence.”

“You say that.” Jaehyun’s arms, wrapped around Doyoung’s neck, come up to press fingers into Doyoung’s collarbone. “But I knew you’d carry me, if I asked.” The fingers come up, pressing into a pulse point, where blood would beat if Doyoung were less of a monster. It’s a lazy touch, gentle, and so is the kiss Jaehyun presses against Doyoung’s jaw.

“Careful,” Doyoung warns the fluttering in his stomach. Butterflies are doomed to die.

“Of you?” Jaehyun smiles against skin. “Would you hurt me?”

It’s a funny question. Doyoung carely adjusts Jaehyun higher on his back. “I have before.”

“But my heart still wants to kiss you.” Jaehyun pauses. “Is that silly?”

It is silly, but Doyoung knows the ins and outs of how they crumbled. Between them, who is sillier? “You want to remember...wait for the remembering.” Blood still seeps out of the scratch on Doyoung’s finger, a bad summoning, and it’s a casual reminder of what must be done.

Jaehyun is familiar enough with the area to recognize the route Doyoung is taking, but he notes it quietly and waits to see how things will play out. It is...a very different sort of person than Doyoung is used to dealing with. Jaehyun is more interested in playing with the hair behind Doyoung’s ear. Every time his skin brushes Doyoung’s neck Doyoung feels it like a thousand kisses. “Can’t you just tell what I should remember?”

Doyoung hums low. “Do you trust me to tell you the truth without bias?”

“I trust you to tell me facts if I asked for them.”

“That’s fair.” Doyoung is not sure he could tell the story of them without his own imaginary heart bleeding on the pages. “But it wouldn’t tell you how you felt about it.” Heavy. There are brutal things between them that Doyoung wants to shake into Jaehyun’s head, but if he’s realistic…

He is terrified of the conclusions Jaehyun will draw.

Jaehyun is quiet for a moment. “I feel like you want me to remember for the wrong reasons.”

“I want you to remember for the same reason you want to remember,” Doyoung argues. His thumbs moving soothingly over Jaehyun’s thighs without thought. “So that you can be sure.”

“Sure of you.”

“Yes.”

“But we still want different things.” Jaehyun touches the spot of Doyoung’s skin he just kissed. Doyoung bites down a shiver. “You want me to remember the bad in you, and I want to remember the good. There’s both, I know.”

“Demons aren’t like humans, Jaehyun.” In the distance, the gates open, thunderous, and the ground shakes. “There doesn’t have to be balance.”

“But I know there’s both because I know there’s good and you’re determined that I know there’s bad.” Jaehyun hums, soft, and it’s so beautiful. He holds on tighter. “I don’t know if it will balance. I’m curious which one of us will be right.”

It’s a familiar path past the neon lights and stall vendors and the lanterns. The shadow is still waiting under its lantern, maybe forever. Doyoung plods on, a concrete destination but no end in sight. Jaehyun falls asleep to the rhythm of his trudging.

“He looks good on you,” says the woman made of smoke, blowing shapes into the air — a dragon, a man, a monster. “Your Orpheus.”

“He’s not Orpheus,” Doyoung reminds her, but he’s starting to think Jaehyun might be.

Orpheus left the Underworld, and went back to the sun, but he surely left something of himself behind. Doyoung wonders if Orpheus regrets anything. He wonders if Orpheus realizes his mistakes are immortalized. He wonders if Orpheus found happiness alone.

Johnny’s shop is open because it is always open, because Johnny is always here when he needs to be. He waits in the doorway, lights on, towering like a dark shadow over the street. “His heart has changed,” Johnny observes, dark eyes shrewd. “But not enough for me to send him home.”

“I’m starting to wonder whether you’re useful at all,” Doyoung tells him, but his smile is gentle. He can’t be angry with his friend for holding his happiness in place. “And don’t admit you can send him home. I’ll be angry at you for lying.”

“You already knew I was lying,” Johnny replies, opening the door. He grins, wicked — “And you’re always angry.”

“That’s not true.” Doyoung relaxes into this argument, an old one with an old ending that they both know, but comes up with a different answer. “I’m not so angry, anymore.”

“No.” Johnny’s smile is breathtaking. “I suppose you aren’t.”

Jaehyun grumbles, waking up like swimming upstream, and he blinks when he sees Johnny before him. His hands grip Doyoung’s shirt like a vice. “Good evening,” he says through a yawn. He glowers at Johnny over top Doyoung’s head.

Johnny is still smiling, despite the wary look in Jaehyun’s eye. “Good evening.” He loves humans so very much.

“I’m not going back,” Jaehyun tells them both while rubbing sleep out of his eyes, petulant like a child.

“So you’ve said.”

“Sometimes it feels like no one is listening.” It’s very pointed. Jaehyun tugs on Doyoung’s ear.

“I listen to you,” Doyoung grouses, dropping Jaehyun to the ground when he’s certain Jaehyun can catch himself. “Walk on your own!”

Jaehyun’s bare feet track mud on Johnny’s welcome mat. “You wouldn’t happen to have any funny socks, would you?” he asks Johnny.

“Please don’t answer him.” Doyoung sighs, messaging his forehead. “I’m here to ask for...a favor.”

And oh, Johnny lights up, because he’s an asshole. “Favors are heavy weights between beings like us.”

Doyoung knew to expect this. It doesn’t stop him from pouting. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“I’ll do you a favor, but you’ll have to do one for me as well. Demons are very transactionary.” Johnny snickers. “Not that I have to explain that to someone like you.”

“It’s not a very difficult favor,” Doyoung insists. “You do it all the time on your own.”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s difficult.” And Doyoung knows this part, so he’s already frowning before Johnny continues. “It matters how important it is to you — there’s the weight.”

Jaehyun looks carefully between the two of them, face neutral. “If it’s to get my memory back, aren’t I the one who would owe you?”

This silly, stupid boy. “Don’t make any more deals with the devil,” Doyoung warns, and his hand reaches out for Jaehyun’s. “You’re lucky but don’t push it.”

“I’m just saying, if this meant to be a fair transaction...” Jaehyun looks at Johnny, a little cold.

Doyoung swallows thickly. “You don’t even know what I’m asking.”

Jaehyun squeezes Doyoung’s hand. “But I know it’s for me.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Johnny says with a shrug. He leans against the counter, fingers smudging glass. “The world has a funny way of balancing itself, so I don’t mind either way.” He raises his eyebrows at Doyoung. “But I won’t say I’m not curious.”

Doyoung squares his shoulders. “I want to see Ten.”

If Johnny were drinking water, he would have choked. As it is, the full-body reaction to the shock of Ten’s name is enough to make Doyoung feel better about asking for this favor. “Who?”

“Ten,” Doyoung says again. “I know you have a direct line to him. I want to see him.”

There should be no threads tying Heaven and Hell together. How lucky for them that this isn’t Hell, and Ten is no angel.

Johnny laughs. “You think he’s involved?”

If that’s not enough to solidify Doyoung’s thoughts, nothing is. “You _know_ he’s involved. He’s nosy and enjoys bothering me.”

“That’s something a lot of your friends have in common,” Jaehyun comments. He’s found the novelty socks and is comparing two of them. For what reason, Doyoung isn’t sure — they’re both atrocious. “Getting you all the way over there is a steep price, you know that?” Johnny would be flushing, maybe, if he still had it in himself to be embarrassed about anything. He’s too settled into the earth these days to be anything other than steady. “What will you give me?”

Doyoung could ask Johnny what he wants, but that’s a dangerous game in bargaining. “Blood,” he says, because it’s the first thing on his lips. “Ten’s.”

Johnny laughs again, shocked at the boldness. “He’ll never give it to you.” But the lilt to his voice hints that the price is good enough.

Doyoung thought it might be. “Not even for such a good friend?” he asks. He’s not talking about himself. “Hasn’t Ten given you more?”

They both know Ten has given Johnny plenty. Time, for one, and knowledge, and something more intimate, when their worlds collide. There should be no threads tying Heaven to Hell, but Ten is no angel, and Johnny’s been holding on long before rules were made. It’s funny, almost, that they think Doyoung never knew.

“Blood for a favor,” Doyoung says plainly. He holds out his hand.

Johnny still isn’t embarrassed. “A token of his, for this trip of yours.” He considers. “I’ll allow it.” He doesn’t specify what the token should be. Doyoung sees this as the discount it is. Johnny shakes Doyoung’s waiting hand and takes a gold coin from the register. “He might not answer you.” He holds out the coin. It’s the kind of currency souls used to pay to Boatman when there was forethought about the other side.

“Of course he will.” Doyoung grabs onto Jaehyun by the arm. “He’s brought me Jaehyun. Why wouldn’t he answer?” His fingers brush gold. His vision goes white.

There is the horrible feeling of his body being dragged through space by no power of his own. It’s rather like being shoved in a suitcase, thrown into a furnace, and then being haphazardly slotted back together in a matter of moments.

Jaehyun falls to his knees, hanging from Doyoung’s hold, and falls onto white carpet. “Fuck,” he hisses, and his skin is a shade paler than normal, sallow, blending into the colorless wash of the waiting room.

It is quiet, save Jaehyun’s ragged gasping. The room smells stagnant, like new magazines and a Febreze plug-in. Maybe lavender. It’s enough to tell Doyoung they’re in the right place.

“I’ll warn you next time,” Doyoung says, helping Jaehyun back to his feet.

“For someone who is hyper-fixated on the fact that I’m human, you sure forget when it counts.” Jaehyun dusts off the knees of his pants. He still has both pairs of novelty socks in his hands. Figures.

Doyoung runs a hand down Jaehyun’s arm and looks like he’s sucked on a lemon. “I will never forget,” he says. “I just forget that humans are so fragile. This is a good reminder.”

Jaehyun kicks him in the shin. “We’re not here for you to feel bad about yourself. I’m tired of telling you I’m okay.”

Doyoung laughs. “You said that before, too.” Sad.

The way Jaehyun falls silent is so loud.

As far as waiting rooms go, this one is the worst — and the emptiest. The clock on the wall ticks but never moves. The curtains are drawn over the windows, but if Doyoung were to peek out the blinds all he’d see is darkness. The lightbulb above the bathroom flickers. No exit. The magazines are old but look brand new. Doyoung remembers reading that article about fang maintenance at least three months ago. He doubts anyone has touched them since.

The worst part is that time does not pass here. Waiting is meant to move, but there’s nothing solid here. Time hangs, and the waiting is at a stand-still.

Honestly, Doyoung had partially thought the coin would get them into Ten’s office. It’s funny that even Johnny has to wait to be seen, but if this is the best that can be done then Doyoung will wait. He won’t wait _quietly_ , but he’ll wait.

And he won’t be waiting alone. There’s a single body in the room, not quite living — alive the way Doyoung is alive. A young man sits at the desk, glasses perched on his nose, and he gives the new arrivals nervous glances while pretending to type on the computer.

Doyoung walks up and leans on the counter. “Jeno,” he says evenly. The shadow he casts is large, and the man at the front desk feels it too. “Long time, no see.”

Jeno smiles, a little tense. “Doyoung, hello.” He pushes up his glasses. He looks very handsome, much like every other time Doyoung has seen him. “It hasn’t been that long.”

Neither of them have ever had much reason to journey to each other’s domain, and there’s even fewer reasons now. Doyoung had a better chance of stumbling upon a righteous creature when he was frequenting up above. Humans are neutral territory.

Jeno met Jaehyun before, early on, long before everything fell to pieces. Jeno had not liked Jaehyun at all because Jeno is rather fond of Doyoung. Even now, he glances at Jaehyun with as dark an expression as Doyoung has ever seen. He pushes up his glasses at turns back to the computer.

It doesn’t matter now, anyway. Jeno was right — Jaehyun ruined Doyoung in more ways than one.

“Is Ten around?” Doyoung asks.

“He’s got an appointment,” Jeno answers, quiet. He looks at Jaehyun, unsure, and then back at Doyoung. “Your friend shouldn’t be here.”

Jaehyun smiles, less than sweet. “His friend has a name.”

Jeno smiles back, and it’s always sweet. “ _Jaehyun_ , you shouldn’t be here,” he says, prim and pointed, “but that didn’t stop you the last time, either.”

Doyoung sighs, heavy, and Jaehyun holds his breath like he’s been slapped. There are some deals that can only be done in these rooms, with these people. Second deals, for example, because most people are only allowed one in their life, and they usually die for it. Deals that change the order of things. Doyoung doesn’t have that kind of authority, in the role he played before. There is order, and there are rules, and he bends them as much as he wants but they cannot be broken. Few people can break whatever they want. Other people are left to rifle through what’s left.

Ten can break whatever he wants, and he always has. Doyoung breaks whatever is left, carefully, with precision, until it breaks him back.

“I know Ten doesn’t have an appointment,” Doyoung says, sliding into Jeno’s space. For what it’s worth, Jeno doesn’t move away the way he might have a decade ago. Working here has heightened his tolerance for bullshit. “Ten doesn’t make appointments.”

Jeno just smiles. It makes him look so young, but he’s so old — it’s why he’s able to smile this way.

“Ten made an appointment specifically because he knew you were coming.” It’s a new voice, but still familiar. And so teasing. Doyoung would recognize his voice anywhere. He’s already scowling as he turns to the doorway.

Donghyuck has always been a little harder to look at. Truly more angelic than demonic, but sharper than any creature on earth, and heavy in the way he shines. Not softly like Jaehyun, or brilliantly like diamonds, but harsh like the sun until there are spots in your vision. His teeth are pointed and his smile is smug. Between them all — even Ten, in all his power — Donghyuck is the most righteous. He is the closest to an angel that can exist.

Honestly, Doyoung is rather fond of Donghyuck. He’s like a puppy, three-headed and terrifying until doted upon.

“Are all of your friends all-knowing?” Jaehyun’s hand is curled up in the fabric of Doyoung’s sleeve. His eyes are squinted at Donghyuck, blinded. It is a common symptom of seeing something like Donghyuck.

“Ten only knows some things,” Doyoung tells him. He laughs. “Like how to be a horrible opportunist and annoy me at the same time.”

There’s a derisive sound and a soft one; the scoff comes from Donghyuck, who likely agrees about Ten’s motives, and the soft _oh_ comes from Jeno. He’s looking at Doyoung apprehensively, the wrinkle on his forehead deep and worried, and he purses his lips at Jaehyun before looking back at his computer.

“What?” Doyoung asks, when it’s clear Jeno will not speak his mind.

“You haven’t smiled in a long time,” Jeno says, typing furiously.

Jaehyun frowns. “It hasn’t been that long.”

But Doyoung can’t deny the truth of it. “The smiles come and go,” he replies, a heavy admission.

Truthfully, Doyoung has not been happy for many years, decades, but happiness isn’t something that is necessary for his kind, so it’s not worth noting. Of course, that would seem silly to Jaehyun, who has seen Doyoung’s smile over and over.

“I still think this is a mess,” Jeno mutters, but he sighs and sinks back in his chair, plucking his glasses off to rub the bridge of his nose.

“No one is denying that,” Donghyuck titters, and his eyes sparkle when he looks Jaehyun over. “But I think it’s more fun that way.”

“Of course, _you_ would think so.” Jeno’s look towards Donghyuck is as close to scathing as he would ever allow himself. He frowns at Doyoung. “You’re a terrible influence, you know?” He shakes his head. “Some of us aren’t in the habit of collecting humans.”

Donghyuck shrugs. “It’s fun.”

“I’m not collecting anything,” Doyoung says slowly. “I’m not here to hold him down.”

“I know.” Jeno looks so burdened. “What you’re here for...it’s worse, isn’t it?”

Jaehyun is finished sinking into the background, but there is too much power in this room to ground himself. Still, he puts his palms down firmly on the counter and takes a deep breath. “I’m here to remember.” Solemn. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“And once you remember,” Jeno asks, meeting Jaehyun’s eyes for the first time, “are you going to go back to your life, unchanged?”

They all know he won’t.

“The choice to change is mine,” Jaehyun replies.

“But the choice to give your memories away was also yours.” Donghyuck clicks his tongue. “Oh, Jung Jaehyun, you seem to be a man of many regrets.”

Jaehyun looks stricken, but Doyoung can’t deny the truth of it.

“I’ll take them to Ten.” Donghyuck has been standing idly in the doorway, but he stands with new resolve. He ignores the look Jeno shoots him with practiced ease. “They’ll get there eventually. Why waste the time?”

“Thank you,” Jaehyun says, weak, and he looks at Jeno, uncertain. “I’m sorry you’re afraid of me.”

“Afraid?” Jeno shakes bitterness out of his head but it lingers in the line of his mouth. “I’m not afraid of anyone who comes through here. You are small and make reckless decisions.” He looks rather sad. “I just don’t want to put out the fires you set.”

“Jeno is too much of a bleeding heart for a creature who doesn’t have one,” Donghyuck says, almost fond, and he holds his arm out for Doyoung and Jaehyun to follow him further into the facility, outside of the white-washed waiting room. “It’s his charm.”

“That he cares?” Jaehyun wonders. “He should care for Doyoung.”

Donghyuck walks ahead of them, does not look behind, does not stop. “Jeno is old enough to realize that nothing really matters.”

“Ah, nihilism.” Jaehyun stares at Donghyuck’s back, despite the absurdity of the hallway they’re in. There are doors everywhere, and plenty of whispers. They are very close to the primordial chaos here. “Is that common in people like you?”

“Humans care about a lot of things that don’t matter,” Doyoung says carefully. “They lack a certain...foresight.”

Donghyuck laughs. “Perhaps I should lend our good Jaehyun my eyes.” He does turn then, slightly, and holds his palms over his face. Dark eyes peer out of the back of his hands, long enough to stare. Jaehyun jolts to a halt. “Would you still make this choice, Jaehyun, if you knew the outcome?”

Jaehyun’s voice is barely a whisper, bleeding in with the voices coming from the many doors. “The outcome?”

The air feels heavier, oppressive. Donghyuck lowers his hands, and there are eyes on his cheeks, neck, shoulders, and it’s bright and terrifying. It’s more angelic than demonic but it is frightening in a harsh and sterile way, like holiness. He offers his palm to Jaehyun. It blinks, slow and purposeful, a brilliant blue. “Foresight...is that what you want?”

Jaehyun cups Donghyuck’s hand and curls it into a fist, eyes closed. “What’s the point?” He smiles, though his body is moving as if through sludge. “I’ve already made my choices. I’m just here to see if I still agree with them.”

Doyoung’s hands are shoved in his pockets, shaking. He has never met a human like Jaehyun and doubts he ever will again.

Donghyuck is brilliant, powerful, and — at this moment — so far beyond human that Jaehyun is pale at the sight of him. Donghyuck takes up space that isn’t there, the weight of power that’s carefully controlled and released for the sole purpose of being disarming.

And all at once, he pulls it back and appears human again.

“That was very rude,” Doyoung chastises. His mouth is a thin line. There is a small door to his left that is begging him for peace he cannot give. Jaehyun struggles to breathe.

“He doesn’t seem worse to wear,” Donghyuck replies, looking Jaehyun over apathetically. “It’s not the first time he’s seen a heavenly body. He’s survived far worse.”

Jaehyun has survived so much. Survived and still surviving, because humans do not come to see Ten twice, do not make deals twice, do not try to hold on to their demons. Jaehyun does not know all the chances he’s taken, but that always means he does not know how many are left.

Amongst the many exits and entrances there is one that is more solid. While others fade in and out of existence, a large mahogany door looms steadily at the end of the hallway. It’s splattered with green paint and smells like the earth.

Donghyuck presses his hand against the wood, and looks at Jaehyun over his shoulder. “I can’t see what will be, only what is.” The back of his hand blinks slowly at them all. “But I’ve seen humans like you before.” He hangs between apathy and regret. “They rarely have happy endings.”

The door opens.

Donghyuck stands aside. “But none of them have made it this far.”

Jaehyun takes the first steps inside. Doyoung trails his hand along Donghyuck’s forearm as he passes in thanks. Donghyuck does not react, not even a nod, and when he walks down the hallway he does not look back.

The air is colder in Ten’s office, but Doyoung supposes that’s reasonable since it’s an entirely different space — far away from the waiting room, from any mortal plane, hovering between. A knife glitters on a shelf, tinged red. There’s an old phonograph in the corner, turning white noise, and the walls are covered in plants. Ivy grows out of drywall. Roses threaten to rip the room to shreds, thorns bared. There is moss beneath Doyoung’s feet, soping through Jaehyun’s novelty socks.

Ten is the most dangerous thing in the room, and he sits among the roses, eyes icy blue. There’s a tin watering can in his hands, painted with daisies, and he waters a single sapling growing up from the hardwood. There is a mystery here, lingering in the air, but Jaehyun does not know how to ask and Doyoung has long since given up asking.

The tree sways in wind that does not exist.

“It’ll be fully grown someday,” Ten says idly.

Doyoung has seen Ten watering the same sapling for a hundred years.

“I’m assuming your appointment finished well?” he asks instead. Jaehyun watches the water pouring from the can with rapt attention, entranced. Doyoung doesn’t blame him. Ten is like Donghyuck, far beyond human, so far that he’s forgotten how to pretend. He’s lovely, in a chilling kind of way.

Ten continues watering. “Yes.”

“What did you take?” Jaehyun knows enough to ask this question, but not enough to know he will not like the answer.

“His ability to hear music,” Ten replies. He looks up. There is green in his veins. His eyes are burning white hot.

Doyoung grimaces.

“I can’t just take their souls, baby.” Ten smiles. His teeth are white and perfectly even, like he found them in a catalogue. “Some of us have to be creative.”

Ten used to eat hearts. There is no such thing as evil for creatures like Ten — only balance — so Doyoung supposes this client is as lucky as any other. Time has tempered Ten, as it softened Doyoung and hardened Donghyuck.

This is the most quiet Doyoung has ever seen Ten. The sapling shivers, trembling with that imaginary wind. Jaehyun shivers as well, covered in goosebumps. “Did I really come here alone?” he wonders aloud. This is not a place for humans, despite existing because of them.

“They always come alone,” Ten tells the open air. “No one comes to make deals unless they have nothing to lose.” Slowly, he stands, tin can cradled in his hands. It’s at odds with the rest of his appearance, oddly grounded. There is rust around the handle. He has had it a very long time.

Jaehyun is holding his breath. “How did I find you?”

“Donghyuck brought you here.” Ten’s feet are bare. He runs delicate fingers over the desk behind him, same mahogany as the door, same wood at the floor. It’s rooted in the floorboards, legs a gnarled mess. “Just like all the others. He’s very helpful to have around.”

Ten gets bored. He’s locked here, tied with the space, and has trouble disentangling himself long enough to leave. It’s how he got into the business of making deals; a little company is never amiss, and solving problems is satisfying, like finishing a puzzle. He used to be in the terrible habit of breaking humans, bloody red, but he prefers growing things, these days.

Like a breeze, Ten places the tin can on the table and moves towards the overgrown wall, plunging his arm into the foliage. From the darkness, he pulls a cup, bronze and brimming. He holds it in both hands. It smells of cinnamon — warm and comforting if it were not so frightening. “You’re here for this.”

It’s not a question.

Jaehyun looks haggard in the dim light. “I want to remember.”

“I’ll need something in return.” Ten glows. He holds the cup close and breathes deeply, eyes closed. “Any good ideas?”

There is something horribly foreboding about all of this; about Ten and his willingness to help, and about the way something flickers across Jaehyun’s face.

Ten walks forward, floating almost, and lifts Jaehyun’s chin with his delicate hand. He holds the cup between them. The liquid looks like red wine, tempting at its least. Jaehyun’s eyes flutter shut because he doesn’t have the strength to look. “Baby boy,” Ten sings, wicked. “You know the rules, but I’ll give you good incentive.”

Jaehyun’s eyes open, flaring ice blue for a heartbeat — something passes between — and then his hand meets Ten’s on the bronze cup. “I’ll agree.” Without hesitation.

“Wait.” This is the thing that worries Doyoung the most. _You have no sense of self-preservation._ He tugs on Jaehyun’s shoulder, pulling them apart, but the cup is firmly in Jaehyun’s grasp now, and the weight of the foreboding is too obvious to ignore. “Agree to what?”

“This deal is beyond you,” Ten says, still smiling.

Doyoung’s fire flares. “I’m the reason he’s here.”

“Yes.” Ten’s feet dig into the earth, and Doyoung knows he’s unmovable. He scowls. “Let your human make his own disastrous decisions.” Ten tilts his head. “Isn’t it more interesting that way?”

Creatures like Ten live so long that nothing is interesting anymore, unless you stir the pot yourself.

Doyoung desperately hopes that Jaehyun has something worth preserving when it matters. Beyond that…

There is nothing he can do. “I’ll kill you if you hurt him,” he hisses.

Ten’s expression darkens. “Hypocrite.”

Jaehyun drinks from the cup.

Doyoung holds his breath. There is nothing about the situation that he loves — other than maybe Jaehyun, if he let himself. Ten looks like a cat with a canary, sated, and something dangerous fills the air.

The bronze cup hits the floor with a dull thud.

🕯🕯🕯

Jaehyun makes his first deal with the devil at a crossroads — miserable, ambitious, brutal, desperate.

It’s a conscious decision to some degree, but Jaehyun is never quite sure how he got there. Some old words in an old book can’t explain the way his heart was ruined even before he made his demands.

The devil is more handsome than Jaehyun would have expected. Aren’t demon’s supposed to be frightening? Is Jaehyun frightened? Quite frankly, the man he meets looks like someone he might have gone to college with, soft features and sharp eyes and flittering hands. Distracting. Well, being handsome is fitting for a demon. They’re supposed to tantalize you into sin, aren’t they?

He’s wearing a suit jacket and a soft, cream scarf. The scarf is not fitting for a demon. He looks grumpy, coffee cup in hand. The absurdity of the moment is lost on Jaehyun, at the time.

“You’ve called to make a pact,” the demon says, and his voice, too, is soft.

This is dangerous. Jaehyun should have known that, even ruined.

“I want to be successful,” Jaehyun tells him. His face is red and swollen and his hands shake where they grip the book. “I want the people standing above me to fall on their knees. I want them to realize they will never reach me.”

Blood is an easy thing to give when the cost doesn’t feel real.

No friends, no family, a job that would rather eat him alive than take what he can give. Disgusting.

The demon smiles, and it’s familiar — wicked, full of promises. “I am Doyoung. I’ll give you everything you want, for a price.”

If there is harm in curiosity, Jaehyung doesn’t mind much if it kills him. He shakes the demon’s hand. He wants to know if this will hurt.

Jaehyun’s soul must be hanging on by mere threads. It doesn’t hurt at all when Doyoung pries it out of his chest and drops it into the bag at his side. It’s dim. Ugly. Jaehyun feels better with it gone. Once it’s hidden, Jaehyun feels like he can breathe freely.

“From now on,” Doyoung says, still wicked, but now less familiar — less human — “I will give my all for your wish.”

Dangerous.

This is the first time that Doyoung steps into Jaehyun’s life, but the way he fits himself in is horrifying and efficient. Jaehyun doesn’t have other people in his life; it makes hiding devils easy. Doyoung watches Jaehyun silently and writes things down in his book with strange runes.

Doyoung picks at the seams of Jaehyun’s unhappiness.

It’s hard, looking back, to see where Doyoung picked the threads apart and where he tightened the hold. Jaehyun recognizes it even in the moment — he did not ask for happiness, only success — but Doyoung’s hands are in everything. Doyoung grips into everything until he’s red up to the wrist.

A horrible accident, Jaehyun’s coworkers say, when the man who stole his work ends up in the hospital. A terrible shame, the old lady on the bus whispers, when the woman who broke Jaehyun’s heart falls to her knees at his feet and begs. A disgusting crime, the news reports, when his boss is revealed to be embezzling money.

“Of course, I didn’t know,” Jaehyun tells the higher ups, when questioned, and he accepts their offers of promotion with a smile.

The man in the hospital dies. If Jaehyun still had a soul, maybe he would regret it.

“Scum die scum,” Doyoung says, sprawled out on Jaehyun’s couch with a wine glass in his hand. Reality television plays on the television.

Jaehyun agrees, whether the demon is referring to _Vamderpump’s Rules_ or the life that’s ended.

“How does it work?” he asks once, early on.

Doyoung appears surprised. “If you knew,” the demon says slowly, “you would be upset.”

Jaehyun feels his chest like he’s taking stock. “I’m not sure that’s true.” He doesn’t feel much anymore. He’s not sure if that is Doyoung’s doing — he hasn’t felt much in a very long time.

It doesn’t matter. He works more. He makes more money. He gets a personal assistant that might be in love with him. In small ways he is desired. He is appreciated. It’s satisfying.

Doyoung stays at Jaehyun’s apartment. Doyoung grows comfortable in that space, in Jaehyun’s home, in Jaehyun’s kitchen, on Jaehyun’s couch. Too comfortable, maybe, for something that doesn’t belong. When he walks past, space warps just a little but Jaehyun likes it. It makes him feel normal.

And Doyoung’s been lingering. Jaehyun can recognize wandering eyes — he wants enough that he can see the wanting in others. Fingers have been trailing over soft skin, and eyelashes have been fluttering, all calculated moves.

It comes from both sides, if Jaehyun is being honest with himself.

“Are you really satisfied?” Doyoung asks, mouth colored a dry red, and his eyes are so dark. His hand is gentle on Jaehyun’s thigh, far too high. “There’s nothing else you could possibly want?”

“Me?” Jaehyun is the one who brings the hand to Doyoung’s cheek, but Doyoung’s smile is the thing that initiated it. “I can think of plenty of things I want.”

Demons don’t get drunk. Doyoung is loose and lazy and leering because that’s how he feels. Jaehyun is taut like a wire and on the edge of snapping. Who made him this way? His deal, this moment, his work?

Either way, the answer is Doyoung.

Jaehyun sinks onto the couch, mouth chasing cherry mouth, and finds that he was not satisfied at all.

This continues. Truthfully, it continues long past when it should.

It continues into the morning, and into the next month, and it becomes something that Jaehyun holds onto. In a life where Jaehyun would rather work himself to the bone than share his space with someone, it’s unknown territory.

Opportune moments appear and Jaehyun is a step-in for a large conference call. His coworker’s computer crashes just before a major deadline, making Jaehyun the only one to submit on time. “He’s got the luck of the devil,” they all say.

Jaehyun works himself to the bone and shares it with his demons.

Doyoung bites down on his neck and takes his dues.

There’s something so sweet about it. It’s a dark and bitter circumstance, when Jaehyun wants to think about it at night. His heart is beating but his chest is empty, and this creature literally holds it in his hands. A soul...what is it? Is it the thing that makes him a human?

Perhaps they’re both missing that vital piece.

“Am I still human?” Jaehyun asks, quietly, while they’re watching trash television and Jaehyun’s hands shake with something that might be anxiety if he could feel anything. It is a strange way to exist.

Doyoung looks at him flatly. “You will never not be a human, Jaehyun; even if you’re missing parts, or gaining.”

“Hmm.” Jaehyun puts his fingers to the spot of his chest that Doyoung first touched him, that delicate hand pulling his spirit out from the inside. “So humans can feel like this, too?”

“Feel what?”

Jaehyun’s mouth curls with a smile. “Dead.”

Doyoung leans back on the couch, face illuminated in flashes of white and LED. “Yes, humans can feel like that.”

It is not the first time Jaehyun has felt like this, but it is the first time it lingers.

He still likes things. Jaehyun likes it when the lady in the cubicle beside his sneers at him, jealous. He likes it when his boss claps him on the back. He likes the numbers in his bank account going up. They announce a promotion at work — another one that Jaehyun applies for. Another one that Jaehyun wants. Clarice on the second floor is the one most likely to get it but Jaehyun wants it more.

And like hell anyone else deserves it. Jaehyun would give up anything for this. He deserves it. He’ll take it with clawed hands, if he has to.

“If I asked you to kill someone for me, would you?” Jaehyun asks, when he’s sated and lazy and honest.

Doyoung looks up from where he lays on the bed, ruined. His hands trace the mark he’s left on Jaehyun’s skin. “I already have.”

(Was it for Jaehyun, or was it for the deal? The man in the hospital was not purposeful, but the outcome is the same. Still, if Doyoung says it was for Jaehyun then Jaehyun believes him. Jaehyun believes Doyoung too much, for something so dark.)

Jaehyun takes Doyoung’s hand and kisses that tattoos at Doyoung’s neck. Jaehyun is still shaking with something-like-anxiety, and wonders where it’s coming from. He ignores it, like he ignores other things that creep up behind him.

Doyoung feels much sweeter in Jaehyun’s hands than the situation calls for. He is the sweetest thing that Jaehyun has ever known, like honey in a sea of ash. He thinks that if this is all he got out of this deal he might be happy. He is not sure what happiness is anymore. Success is easier to quantify and far easier to gain.

Jaehyun gets the promotion.

He isn’t as happy about it as he thought he would be. He works more, and hopes the next step forward feels better. It does not.

“He used to be so nice,” his boss says in the conference room, when he thinks Jaehyun can’t hear. “He’s so hollow now.”

The passion that Jaehyun puts into his work is not hollow. His ambition is not hollow. No one knows how much of himself he gives. The mirror looks like a different person, and that person is hollow, but that is not and has never been Jaehyun.

When the mirror shatters the warped reflection grins. Doyoung cleans blood off of Jaehyun’s hands because Jaehyun does not care enough to do it himself.

“We’ve been together for a long time,” Jaehyun tells his demon many days after. He has lost track of time but he knows many heartbeats have passed.

“I…” Doyoung blinks at him, silent for a long moment. “Yes, we’ve been together for a long time.” Jaehyun is cooking food for them both, and Doyoung frowns at the meal.

Jaehyun stares at the plate. “Am I different?”

It is terrifying how long it takes Doyoung to answer. “I didn’t know you before.”

“Do you like who I am?”

“Yes.”

“Am I hollow?”

Doyoung does not need to eat. He shovels food into his mouth and Jaehyun waits patiently for the response, ticking. “We’re all hollow, if we give away enough.”

The plate in front of Jaehyun makes a loud noise as it hits the wall. “That’s not an answer!” It’s satisfying, and the smears on the wallpaper are satisfying, and the anger is satisfying. He throws Doyoung’s plate. Doyoung doesn’t need it, anyway.

Jaehyun smiles in his kitchen, ceramic broken around his bare feet.

Quietly, Doyoung stands up from the table and leaves the room.

If Jaehyun can’t be satisfied with happiness, then anger will work. Destroying things will work. He can destroy things, and others, and himself, and he is not hollow. He has control over the world. A husk cannot change anything, but Jaehyun can. He’s capable. He can do whatever he wants.

He wants to kiss Doyoung, so he does. He bites until he breaks skin. At the end, Doyoung wipes the tears off his cheeks with gentle thumbs. How funny, that this creature is sweeter than Jaehyun. Honey and ash.

Jaehyun has changed, but Doyoung has changed, too.

“If I asked you to kill someone for me, would you?” Jaehyun asks into the skin of Doyoung’s neck, hands on bare hips. Sweet.

Doyoung’s nail dig into skin. “Is that what you want?” The room is quiet, save for breathing.

Something breaks. “Yes.” Jaehyun smiles down at him. “Yes, it is.”

“Who?” Doyoung’s eyes are dark.

“Anyone.” Jaehyun runs his hand over Doyoung’s ribs, kisses up his neck. There are words written there in a language he doesn’t understand. He licks a line up ink. “Anyone you want.”

Jaehyun’s boss calls him into work early, and Doyoung is not there when Jaehyun returns.

“I have other jobs, Jaehyun,” the demon sighs, when he gets home and sees the look on Jaehyun’s face. The betrayal that flashes afterwards is rewarded with a scoff, not an explanation. “You’re successful enough. What more do you want?”

“Everything,” Jaehyun says, and is surprised when it’s a scream in a quiet room. “I want everything. Nothing is enough. You want me to be happy. Why would you stop?”

“You’re happy?”

Jaehyun is happy. Jaehyun likes things. Jaehyun likes Doyoung. “Yes.”

“Okay,” Doyoung says after a hanging moment. He swallows thickly. The look on his face is not one Jaehyun has seen before. “Then my work here is done.”

Shaking, a distant feeling, like something is banging on a glass wall. Jaehyun wraps his hand around Doyoung’s wrist, white-knuckled. “Please, don’t go.” Small. A voice he has not used in so long, a voice he has no use for. “I don’t know what I’ll do if you go.”

Doyoung’s eyes are sharp, the same way they were at the crossroads, but there’s more behind them now. “You need me?”

Jaehyun sinks into Doyoung’s arms. Doyoung’s shirt grows wet under his face. His head hurts. “I need…” anything. “Yes.” He clutches the panels of Doyoung’s jacket. He’s cold from the outside. Jaehyun feels cold, shivering. “I need you.”

He pulls off Doyoung’s clothes and sinks into the darkness. When they kiss it feels like a goodbye. Jaehyun leaves ugly, desperate scratches on Doyoung’s back trying to hold on.

Later that night, Doyoung sits on the bed with something shining in his hands.

Jaehyun throws his arms over Doyoung’s shoulders and holds him close, running his fingers over the dark letters that twist down Doyoung’s forearms. “What is that?” he hums. It is dull and ugly, more like stone than a star.

Doyoung holds it up to the light. “It’s you.”

Thread-bare, ruined, but Doyoung forces it into Jaehyun’s chest anyway. It burns. It burns, like it doesn’t belong, like Jaehyun has filled himself with something else and there’s no more room. He howls, pushing it away but still it comes. He cries, pitiful. He doesn’t hate himself for it, not really.

The hand gripping the back of his head is soft, gentle, sweet, and the kiss Doyoung gives him is bruising. “I’m sorry, Jaehyun.” Jaehyun can’t focus on the words. “I couldn’t do it.”

Jaehyung doesn’t know what he means. He never gets to ask.

Doyoung is gone in the morning. Jaehyun waits for him to come back. His door never opens.

Jaehyun misses work for the first time in three years. He sits in his bed and he waits and nothing happens. He tries to remember whether the kiss was real or a dream, whether Doyoung was real. Everything is hazy. The past year is swallowed in fog.

His work phone rings and rings and rings, a horrible alarm.

“Are you coming in?” his boss asks.

“No,” Jaehyun says, and hangs up.

He waits. Doyoung does not come back.

His hands shake with anxiety. Jaehyun can feel it now. How bizarre, that Jaehyun lost his soul and his heart went with it, and now he has them both, and it still feels like he lost something irreplaceable. His bed is cold. Everything is a lot colder. The house is too big.

He’s lonely. Perhaps, he was always lonely. Is that the problem Doyoung solved?

Jaehyun waits too long for Doyoung to come back. The house is too big. He wanders it like a ghost.

“What’s going on with you?” his secretary asks, leaning her head into Jaehyun’s office with a cup of coffee in her hand.

There are tears on his face. The woman gasps, because she has never seen Jaehyun crack. Jaehyun has never cracked. He smiles at her, and it’s messy and swollen and wobbly. “I’m not happy,” he tells her.

He was not happy when Doyoung was here. He was not capable of being happy.

Jaehyun feels like he’s missed something important.

Doyoung does not come when Jaehyun tries to summon the way he did that first time, digging that dusty tome from under laundry he hasn’t washed in months. Doyoung does not come when Jaehyun calls or cries or prays.

Jaehyun moves out of his house and packs everything he wants to keep into two boxes. Doyoung has not left anything behind, but Jaehyun is not certain he would want to keep them anyway. He wonders if Doyoung was real, for the nth time, but doesn’t not know what other kind of magic could have changed him. He does not eat. He does not sleep. He haunts, and wants, and nothing else.

Nothing is unfixable, not even death. Jaehyun felt dead before, and now he feels too much. He’s broken both ways, but change happens in steps.

Desperate men have a strange habit of finding all the things that will destroy them. It happened before, when Jaehyun found Doyoung. It happens now, when Jaehyun meets Donghyuck in the rain.

“You’re pathetic,” says this strange man. As Jaehyun blinks rain from his eyes he swears he sees a thousand more staring back. “Is this what a ruined soul does to a man?”

“Are you like Doyoung?” Jaehyun asks. His umbrella is unused at his side and the storm rage above. He is soaked to the bone. “Do you know him? Can you speak to him?” He reaches forward and clings onto a spotless white sleeve. “Can you tell him I miss him?” _Can you tell him I want him?_

Donghyuck — a name Jaehyun never learns — scowls. “I am more than Doyoung but not by much.” He clicks his tongue. “Although he is very little, these days.” He does not answer any of Jaehyun’s other questions in a way Jaehyun can understand. “If you follow me, I can introduce you to someone interesting.”

It happens again, when Jaehyun steps into the waiting room.

The creature at the front desk is so bright he hurts to look at. “You’ve wasted yourself.”

“He’s curious.” Too many eyes peer at him, and Jaehyun burns all over despite the water in his head and the rain on his skin. “Ten will like him.”

Ten does like him. Ten likes him too much. Ten makes him a deal.

“All of your memories, and I’ll send you to him.” A watering can in old hands, and a sapling at his feet, stagnant.

Jaehyun had walked into the room and asked to be happy; this is just as well. Ten surely knows more than he does. Jaehyun spits his past into a glass bottle and ends his praying. The world turns upside down. The weight on Jaehyun’s shoulders becomes physical, and his eyes close.

When he opens them, he sees a hooded figure in a boat, and an open hand.

🕯🕯🕯

Jaehyun remembers slowly. He shakes, whimpers, and dreams.

Doyoung is hovering over him, his face contorted in worry even as Ten sits up his desk, peering at the both of them with wicked blue eyes.

“That is a nice look on you,” Ten says.

“I will never forgive you for sending him to me,” Doyoung replies like a knife. He knows that it is true but could not chastise Ten properly where Jaehyun might hear. Jaehyun, who hates the thought that Doyoung wants to send him away. The reality is that Doyoung removed himself from Jaehyun’s life because this world is a rock that only drags downward. “Your meddling is cruel.”

Ten shrugs. “I don’t need your forgiveness.”

“You don’t regret anything you’ve done.”

“I have bestowed far more harmful gifts than happiness.” Ten lifts his eyebrow, pinning Doyoung among the moss and ruin. “So you have you.”

Doyoung has destroyed countless lives in the name of his deals. He destroyed Jaehyun’s, and it seems as though history is determined to repeat itself. He has no choice but to wait for Jaehyun to wake and...what? Change his mind?

“If he left you your heart would break.” Ten knows too much and yet nothing at all.

“I don’t have a heart,” Doyoung sneers.

Ten taps his fingernails along the tin of his can. “Things can grow.” He looks almost longing at the sapling. “If you want it enough.”

Doyoung has never been able to feed on Ten, even if he wanted to. He thinks Ten’s wishes would burn on the way down like swallowing fire, but he has never sensed a desire in him. Still, Doyoung remembers when this room was all wood and paper. There has been a steady growth of life here, thanks to a green thumb and too much time.

“What’s the point in having a heart?” Doyoung asks. He puts his hand on his chest. Deep magic churns. If he wept his collar to the side he’d fine runes he’s never had a need for swirling under the palm of his hand. He does not look.

“A heart is useless,” Ten agrees. Gently he kicks the golden cup where it lays sitting on the floor. It is already creeping with moss. “Though it does keep excellent time.”

Jaehyun’s eyes flutter open with a small moan. The focus of the room readjusts in a moment, and Jaehyun struggles to push onto his elbows where the ivy has started crawling over his chest. “Ah…” His hands cling to his head. His eyes flash blue. He blinks the color away and looks far away. “That was…”

Ten hums. “A bad memory.”

This is what they came here for. This is what Doyoung brought Jaehyun here for. If Doyoung had a pulse it would be racing. He is not sure how to feel. He is not used to feeling at all.

Jaehyun’s skin is as pallid as when Doyoung pulled him from the river. His hands shake as he detangles himself from vines and ungrowth. The soles of his socks are muddy brown and there are leaves in his hair. “It was…” He rubs his eyes and dirt smears on his cheeks. “Was I truly…?”

Doyoung does not know what Jaehyun saw but he knows enough. “Yes.”

“Oh, fuck.” And then, bizarrely, Jaehyun laughs.

He laughs at himself, at his grief, at the choices he’s made. He might be laughing at Doyoung, the monster who fell in love with the shell of a man and could not do what needed to be done to properly close the door.

Doyoung can admit this to himself now — in that moment, forcing a soul back into a chest where weeds have grown, Doyoung saved Jaehyun’s life. He has never felt the need to do that before.

Johnny was right. Breaking the contract is truly the most human thing Doyoung has ever done.

“That man who died…” Jaehyun looks up at Doyoung. “Was that my fault?”

Doyoung barely remembers that man. His death had not been intentional, but he’d be lying if he said he felt bad about it. The Jaehyun Doyoung knew would not have asked this. “Yes,” Doyoung says, because he is not in the habit of lying. Doyoung is the one who made it so, but he would not have acted without the direction of Jaehyun’s poisoned heart.

“Who made me that way?” His eyes are clear.

“I don’t know,” Doyoung asks. “Humans are complicated. I never asked.” He does not mention that many nights he stared at the heavy star of Jaehyun’s soul and looked for answers. He does not mention all the mornings, between the wine and the reality television and the warm body, that he considered forcing what was willingly given back where it came from.

It took a surprisingly short amount of time for Doyoung to grow a heart, but it took him many months to decide his newfound humanity was worth keeping. Six months of watching Jaehyun sleep, of kissing his mouth, of answering his questions, of bitterness rolling in Doyoung’s stomach, before he decided he could go on no longer.

Jaehyun is not inherently an angry person, but dead men are not in the habit of being kind.

Still, he was kind to Doyoung for as long as he could be. He wanted Doyoung — he wanted Doyoung so much that Doyoung was drunk on it, stuffed full and overfed with desire. He has never experienced that from a dead man before.

Twisted hearts, yes. Ruined minds, yes. The desperation, begging a demon to stay...if there was a single thing that could ruin Doyoung it was this.

“I did love you,” Jaehyun says, reaching out from Doyoung’s cheek. He smiles at the way Doyoung jolts. “Or if I couldn’t recognize it then, I know that it’s true now. So why were you so afraid?”

Doyoung breathes for the first time in many hours. “I am your downfall.” _I did love you._ It will ring over and over again in his ears no matter how this ends.

“I had fallen far before you arrived at my door,” Jaehyun says, dark. “And what’s more, I invited you in.” His thumb strokes the smooth skin of Doyoung’s face. “Can demons cry?”

“I’m not a demon,” Doyoung admits. That is merely the closest word Jaehyun knows.

“That makes more sense,” Jaehyun says, still smiling, wiping beneath Doyoung’s eyes.

This is the first time Doyoung has kissed a Jaehyun with all his parts. He is warm, his skin is warm, his heart is beating. There’s a star in his chest and desire deep inside and Doyoung drinks like a starving man. This is not familiar because it is good and guiltless. There is want. There is a desperate desire for peace and the comfort of a body.

“I had to go,” Doyoung says, like an apology.

“I know,” Jaehyun admits. He runs his hand through Doyoung’s hair, brushing it out of his face. “And I had to come after you.”

“This is sweet,” Ten croons. His blue eyes watch them, fascinated. “Is this love?”

Doyoung doesn’t know. He thinks so.

“It doesn’t taste good.” Ten eats everything. “Hearts don’t satisfy me much anymore.”

Jaehyun sits all the way up, cross-legged on the floor. He leans into Doyoung though his eyes are on Ten. “Is this indirectly asking for your fee?” His voice is wry. He knows what’s coming.

Doyoung had almost forgotten. How unprofessional of him.

“There are two fees: one for me to give and one to take.” Ten grins. “I am not happy you used my gift to Johnny. I got excited thinking he might come.”

“You knew who was coming,” Doyoung scoffs. He is still tangled in his human, arms wrapped around Jaehyun’s shoulders. He likes the way Jaehyun’s breath is heavy, panting. He’s satisfied. “Don’t lie to me.” Ten knows far more than Donghyuck.

Donghyuck knows what is. Ten knows what was, what is, and what will be.

And what’s more, Doyoung isn’t sure Ten remembers how to be excited.

“I’ll give you a token,” Ten says, and more than anything else this sets off Doyoung’s nerves because it is too easy. Ten is never easy. “I know what Johnny wants it for, and you’ve entertained me.” There is more he is not saying. “And I am...interested in what is to come.”

If there was bile on Doyoung’s stomach he would taste it. He grips the material of Jaehyun’s shirt so tightly he hears threads snap.

“It’s alright,” Jaehyun assures him. “Please help me up.”

Jaehyun is weak. He was weakened by the water and again by the wine, and he leans heavily on Doyoung until he’s standing with a straight spine. Gently, he picks up the fallen cup. “Your token.”

Ten grins, languid as he stands up from his seat. “Johnny did not need to give you the discount of vagueness.” His hands dance among the vines until he pulls the knife from its resting place. There is blood along the edge. Ten never cleans. “I’ll give you what he wants.” He drags the knife along his palm.

Where red falls on the floor, roses grow. Ten does not mind then as he holds his clenched fist above the chalice. There is an unnatural amount there. Jaehyun’s teeth clench and he sways as though he’s woozy. Doyoung puts a steadying hand on his hip and marvels at the ability to touch.

He senses that there are not enough heartbeats here to measure.

When the cup is half-full, Ten licks the wound until his mouth is red and the bleeding stops. “A token,” he says simply, “in return for my fun.”

_How often do you get to see a human who has made two deals with the devil and survived them both?_

It’s three deals now.

“You’re incredible,” Doyoung whispers into the air, and Jaehyun looks at him with a small smile.

“I’m sorry for hurting you,” he says after a long moment. He holds the cup out to Doyoung, who takes it with both hands. “I am sorry for what will happen.”

Doyoung’s stomach twists. The red in the cup shakes. “What do you think of the remembering?” he asks, still soft. “Was it worth it?”

“Yes.” Jaehyun kisses his cheek. “You are. You always will be.”

“I will ask more directly.” Ten slides up and tugs on Jaehyun’s sleeve. “My fee?”

In some sad way, Doyoung knew this was the price. “I’ll pay,” he says. He feels the stones in his head and his chest and his stomach and wonders if Jaehyun put them there piece by piece.

Ten looks at Doyoung critically. “He already agreed.” A delicate hand pulls Jaehyun and Doyoung apart. “Besides…” He grins with the perfect catalogue teeth. “A demon who ruins himself for a human? What a silly story that would be.”

Doyoung growls, gnashing his teeth like an animal at this righteous creature who is — on good days — his friend. Doyoung knows he is already ruined. He cannot deny it nor would he. A mere week or two, a handful of days with Jaehyun and all progress was lost. Doyoung will be the Boatman forever if it means he would never hurt Jaehyun again.

But Jaehyun has no concept of forever, and neither do they.

“I have to go,” Jaehyun says.

“I know.” Doyoung hangs his head. “And...I have to beg you to stay.”

“He can’t.” Ten pulls Jaehyun even further, his smile thin and polite. “It is not your deal. It’s _mine._ ” He looks at Doyoung and it’s pointed. “You cannot bend the rules this time, and you’ve never been able to break them.”

Doyoung will not beg, but he will get very close and he cannot bring himself to regret it. “You promised him happiness.”

“I never gave him a timeframe.”

Ten is Doyoung’s friend on good days. Doyoung prays that this is a good day. He has never prayed before.

“The first deal was a trip to Hell in exchange for your memories.” Ten kisses Jaehyun’s cheeks and his eyes roll back. Ten doesn’t have a good grip on Jaehyun, is uninterested in stopping him from falling to the group, and Doyoung lurches forward to hold up Jaehyun’s prone body. “It only makes sense to give him his memories and remove him from this place.”

Doyoung holds Jaehyun to his chest. “Please let him stay.” The line between begging and whatever he’s doing now is so thin. “Please...I’ll give you—”

Ten’s glare is harsh before Doyoung can get the words out. “You are a fool. You know better than to _give me anything._ ” And then it softens. “Let him go.”

“I _can’t,_ ” Doyoung admits to the open air. “I tried. I don’t have the strength to do it twice. I can’t.”

“You really are a perfect pair,” Ten says, sneering. “Pathetic.” He waves his hand and Doyoung is holding nothing and they are alone.

Demons do not cry but Doyoung is not a demon.

“Humans do not live forever,” Ten reminds him. He puts a hand on his shoulder in quick and awkward comfort.

Doyoung is listless. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

“There’s no need,” Ten says. He picks Doyoung up by the collar and only then does Doyoung realize he’s fallen to his knees. “Now please, get out of my office. I have another appointment soon.” He lifts Doyoung’s face up to the light. “You know it had to be this way.”

In most ways, this is what Doyoung wanted. “I knew it would hurt, too.”

Doyoung told Jaehyun that they could not merely throw him back into the water, but he knows that’s what the remembering has done. Jaehyun is swept back into the river, upstream.

But humans do not live forever.

“Go on, Boatman.” Ten opens the door. “You are so little, but you can be more.”

Doyoung walks down the hallways without a way to keep times, but that does not stop him from counting the minutes.

🕯🕯🕯

Doyoung returns to Johnny’s shop with a cup in his hands. He spills not a drop on the table as he places it in front of Johnny at the register. “Your price.”

Johnny does not seem surprised to see Doyoung return alone. “Was it worth it?”

“Yes.” Doyoung takes a shuddering breath. He braces himself against the fog as it seeps inside. “He always will be.”

It is a lonely walk home.

🕯🕯🕯

Doyoung is very good at being a Boatkeeper, but he was far better at collecting souls. They offer him his job back and are not surprised when he says no. “I’m waiting,” he tells the shadowy entities that make up the crossroads.

“For what?” they ask in layered voices. Waiting is not natural when every day is the same.

“For happiness.”

The shadows do not question him further, which is good. Doyoung does not know the answers.

“Come here.” Yuta pulls out a bottle of wine and holds out his arms. He’s barefoot, legs hanging over the pier as the boat bobs in the water. Muddy hands reach up for his ankles but do not reach far enough. “For old time’s sake.”

Yuta and Doyoung are founded on old times. It’s all they know. Doyoung curls up in Yuta’s arms and decides the waiting is worth it but he refuses to be lonely. “Thank you.”

“Don’t get sappy on me now.” Yuta drinks straight from the bottle. “Some of us still don’t have feelings.”

Doyoung laughs and drinks his wine. There is red on his hands but he is not lonely.

Doyoung laughs and drinks his wine. There is red on his hands but he is not lonely. “How long do you think it takes?”

Yuta hums. “To feel better?”

“No.” Doyoung hums along to the siren song. “For death.”

It’s an odd question for the Underworld.

Yuta doesn’t answer. He merely raises the wine bottle in a toast to nothing and says, “we’ll see.”

Doyoung waits.

🕯🕯🕯

The dead do not pay the Boatman, because they do not know what lies beyond death or how to prepare for it. Doyoung cannot begrudge them — he also does not know what lies beyond. He has never died.

It is another season and there are many boatkeepers. There is Dejun, who enjoys the work, and Renjun, who is looking for something new, and still many others. Doyoung cannot say he’s not happy for the help. He spent many years by himself.

He likes to keep busy, but as the gates open and close he has grown very tired.

“Can demons die?” someone had asked him so long ago.

The truth is no, they cannot. Doyoung does not think death can ever come because there is no clock ticking. These creatures hang between life and death, and he himself is neither alive nor dead. There is no life in him to end. There is no timer to run out.

So why is he waiting?

“I will miss you when you go,” Jungwoo told him in the morning. “But we will see each other again.”

Yuta kissed his forehead as he pushed Doyoung out on the river. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

The lonely song sings out over the water. Doyoung is oddly at peace with it.

There are not as many souls on the shoreline as usual. It is to be expected with as many boats. There are several crossroads but only one gate. There are several places that hang here, not quite real but real where it matters.

Doyoung has taken to looking very closely at all of the faces, looking for one he might recognize. He remembers warning a soul not to torture themself that way, trying to find loves ones in a sea of shells, but it does not feel like torture. If anything, it is hopeful. Sweet.

Sweet like honey.

It has been many years, Doyoung thinks. He has not returned to the top where the sun shines. He has existed here and has been happy in his waiting. Johnny goes back and forth and brings back things to his store, hopelessly human things, and he shows Doyoung like they are toys and he is a child.

“They are creating so many new things,” Johnny tells him. “Useless things, mostly, but they are new.”

“That’s what happens when time passes,” Doyoung tells him.

Johnny places a letter in his hand. “Time continues to pass and things continue to grow.” The handwriting is perfect. It smells like brine. “But entropy wins over everything.” There are few things that one can count on, but death and decay will never change.

Doyoung has read many letters. The last one was shaky and wandering. Doyoung waits for death with fondness.

He waits patiently day after day, herding his wandering bodies onto his boat. He watches them sit on the benches without words. Sometimes they try to speak and realize they can’t. Doyoung watches them very closely but never recognizes any of them.

Truly, he knows what he is waiting for. He knows that it will come eventually. Time is a constantly moving current, one that matters very little for creatures like Doyoung. He does not have to wait very long. He has been alive for centuries. Not as long as the woman made of smoke, but long enough. If he were a human, perhaps the wait would be harder. If he were human, perhaps the wait would be a valid price for happiness.

They do say good things come to those who wait.

Doyoung spends his days on the river, manning the boat, carrying bodies from here to there, but it's not often that he pulls a body from the water. Despite that, it’s not shocking when hands bang over the shell of his ship and he’s left fishing men.

“I thought you said you would materialize inside the boat this time,” Doyoung says, grabbing a hand and hauling a body. Eurydice pulls Orpheus out of the river and shifts slightly into a happy ending.

“I said I would _do my best_.” Dead or alive, Jaehyun is beautiful.

He should be old now, wrinkled and withered and wandering, but he is a star. He looks the same as he did the first time, and the second time, and all the other times Doyoung has looked upon and found something worth keeping. He drips water into the floor of the boat. It would be deja vu if his heart were still beating.

“You look the same,” Doyoung says. His throat is thick. There is a letter in his pocket written with a shaking hand.

“Do I?” Jaehyun stares at his hands, clenches his fingers. “I don’t look like the others.”

“No.”

“I wonder why.”

Jaehyun has never been ordinary. “Perhaps it has something to do with all those deals you made?”

Perhaps the real price was loneliness, or time lost. That does not matter in the grand scheme of things — the dead have all the time in the world.

“Boatman,” Jaehyun says, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a gold coin with a grin. “For your service.”

Doyoung is overwhelmed. He covers Jaehyun’s hand with him, pushes the gold back into a closed fist.“I don’t need anything from you but a kiss.”

They have an audience of restless spirits, but Doyoung does not mind. The boat tips but does not turn, because time has not unwound and there is no reason to believe it will any time soon. Jaehyun is not warm anymore, but Doyoung’s chest still fills with fire.

He is a star, and he is beautiful.

“What’s behind the gates?” Jaehyun asks against Doyoung’s mouth.

“I don’t know,” Doyoung tells him. He presses their foreheads together. “Peace?” It is the best answer he has found.

Jaehyun’s eyes flutter shut. “I think that sounds nice.” He sounds so tired. Doyoung cannot imagine living for so long.

Doyoung laughs. He is laughing much more often these days. “Yes. I think so, too.” There are no real benefits to growing a heart. Doyoung could not even have said he wanted to grow one, but what he wants needs one, and now his chest is keeping time. All things end, if the clock ticks long enough.

It is Doyoung’s last trip down the river. It is the happiest Doyoung has ever been.

**Author's Note:**

> oooOOOOOoooo ヘ(◕。◕ヘ)


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